


Lay It Down (Crash Gently)

by softestlad



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Bikers, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Biker Gang AU, Bikers, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Crimes & Criminals, Dating, Developing Relationship, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Intimacy, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fantasizing, Fights, Fingering, First Kiss, Fist Fights, Flirting, Homophobia, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Insecurity, M/M, Making homophobes uncomfortable, Manhandling, Masturbation, Mechanic Aaron, Medical Procedures, Minor Violence, Motorcycles, Neck Kissing, Post-Prison, Protectiveness, Reconciliation, Relationship Discussions, Sexuality, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut, Stabbing, Unsupportive family, and not-coming-out sort of tbh, bartender robert, biker gang mechanic that is, discussion of suicide attempt, dubious mechanic research, interfering family, lessons in responding to coming out poorly, public coming out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 54,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestlad/pseuds/softestlad
Summary: Robert moves back to Emmerdale with no rich fiancé, no cushy job, and no idea where he's going next. Except to work in Charity's pub, which happens to service the local biker gang.Aaron's done his time and he's not going back to prison. But every biker gang needs a good mechanic on call, and he's happy to fill that role.They're both treading water, filling time. But some things are made to crash and collide.--A Biker Gang AU (with very little biking).
Relationships: Aaron Dingle/Robert Sugden
Comments: 156
Kudos: 391





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey :)  
> tags and warnings will be added as i go, so keep an eye on those 👍 👍 👍

“This,” Charity announced, with a flamboyantly condescending gesture, “is a beer tap. Beer comes out, goes into punters, from whom cash comes out, and goes in my till. Any more questions, brainbox?”

Robert smiled, as much as a total disappearance of lips and a narrowing of eyes can be called a smile. Brainbox indeed. A business degree and years of climbing up what at times felt like a buttered ladder, and all he had to show for it was a broken engagement, an ex father in law with laser guided intentions of vengeance, and a job as a barman.

And of course, the cherry on top. Charity Dingle as his new boss, staunchly avoiding his carefully worded questions about what _kind_ of pub this was.

He knew already of course. It was Dingle all over, and more pressingly, it was a biker bar. Only for one specific gang, but still, Robert didn’t have to listen too hard for the whispers to reach him. From what he’d heard, the gang worked a few different angles – auto theft, chop shop. They weren’t out terrorising the community from what he could tell, but their collective record spared no charge. Plenty of assault and GBH to go around.

Robert wasn’t judging. He didn’t really care what a bunch of leathered up local crims got up to of a weekend. He just wanted to know if he’d be safe working in the pub they frequented, or if his middling wage was simply not worth the risk he was putting himself under.

“I’m not a grass, Charity,” Robert said, getting straight to the point, contorting his smile into something a little more charming, something that would have better matched the suits he used to wear than the scuffed wood furnishings of the Woolpack. “I just don’t want any trouble.”

“Well then,” Charity said, coming closer and poking him in the chest – not hard, or to intimidate, but playfully. “Best keep your head down, arse up, and pints pulled.”

“Bit risqué for the workplace, in’t it?” Robert kept her gaze unflinchingly, returning the teasing light. They were bantering, he realised. She liked him, he realised a moment later, and even more shockingly, he liked her. They were operating on the same level, with some indefinable quality in common. “Flirting in broad daylight.”

Charity widened her eyes, scoffing, then leaned in even closer. He could smell her perfume and was surprised by how subtle it was. Light and airy.

“Babe,” she said, “if I was flirting with you, you’d know it. Now be a good boy,” Charity winked, and gave him a double tap on the cheek, “And get to work.”

Robert leaned on the bar as she swanned out the door, shaking his head with a smile. He never did make friends the conventional way. But maybe it’d work better in a place like this, he thought, than in glass panelled office spaces, bright and sleek and no room for a farmer’s son wrapped in consultant’s clothing.

He started working, serving the few punters, delivering food orders for early lunches into the kitchen for Marlon, the gangly chef whose stress leaked out the swinging kitchen door in rivulets. You’d swear it was _his_ first day, not Robert’s. It was familiar work to him, and he soon fell back into the rhythm of it.

It scared him, how easy it was. He didn’t need easy, didn’t want it or like it. He never had. That’s why he worked his way up in a business that didn’t think he had the know-how, why when his dad told him to leave he fronted it out through hard times, not once allowing himself to crawl back and beg for his home again. Why he pursued Chrissie, so elegant and together, so in control of her life, if a little jilted. Why he ruined it with Rebecca, beautiful as Chrissie, not half as interesting, but enough to add some stakes to the whole thing and get his pulse up when things got a little too comfortable. Not that he had to worry about that anymore. There wasn’t much comfortable in coming home to find one sister burning your clothes in the front driveway while the other one assumed the way was now cleared. As if.

He had never been much bothered with easy. He looked around the pub, the slow morning turning into a slow afternoon.

What he needed was a challenge.

Robert sighed, then looked up as two men bustled in together, one of them with a guffaw that had Robert sarcastically chanting _lads lads lads_ in his head. He was decked out in a leather jacket, road dusty and worn out, big goofy smile and wildly curly hair doing little to conceal the obvious; he was one of the gang’s members. The Saints, they were called. The gang was started by Dingles and mostly populated by them, a family with a Biblical naming convention that Robert hadn’t figured out the motive for - genuine faith or heretical irony. His dad used to talk shite about the Dingles at any opportunity. He was a hard working man, honest labour his solemn trade, and found the Dingles’ reputation as petty thieves and thugs contemptible. Andy parroted those opinions effortlessly, but Robert had never been so straight forward in his thinking. The way he saw it, not getting caught out doing dodgy dealings when every patron of the cop shop knew your family name – that seemed like hard work to him.

If not honest labour.

Robert watched the two men, the one in the Saints jacket gesturing to him for two pints. Robert wavered, eyes snagging on the other man. He wasn’t wearing any of the biker paraphernalia, but a dusk-purple hoodie and a deeply unamused expression as the other one talked, then made a lunge for him. Robert froze, then relaxed – it was just some laddish rough housing, and _purple hoodie_ managed to steal the other’s seat, bringing him more clearly into Robert’s eyeline. Robert watched them, _purple hoodie_ hiking one foot up onto the chair and resting his forearm on his knee like no one took the trouble to teach him how to sit before. He scratched at his stubble as he talked with his Saint friend and Robert shook his head, making himself focus on the pints.

Charity had never answered his health and safety queries re: the Saints basically owning the pub, but he was a chancer, not a bellend. He’d get his bearings first, figure out the lay of the land. And absolutely _not_ come onto a fit lad associated with a biker gang, in said biker gang’s pub.

He liked his teeth _in_ his head, cheers.

Robert sauntered over to their table, catching the tail end of their conversation.

“Never loved her like I did, man, she’s special,” said the Saint, a wounded look on his face. He was like a Labrador in a leather jacket, and Robert had a hard time taking him seriously as a gang member. Purple Hoodie on the other hand…

“She’s scrap,” he said, scowl firmly in place.

“She’s –“

“Wow,” Robert said, unable to help himself. _Story of his life._ He plonked their pints on the table. “Some way to talk about the Mrs, that.”

Robert didn’t know what he was expecting, but both lads turned to look at him, the Saint with a gormless curiosity, and the other –

The other with the most beautiful blue eyes Robert had ever seen. Intense and bright, fixed on him. They were eyes to sink ships with, they were. Robert stared. A moment passed.

“You what, mate?”

\--

Aaron was a mechanic. Mechanics were often covered in oil. These were some essential facts of life.

But Adam’s sodding quad bike had drenched him in it as he repaired the thing _again_ , and when Adam’s only response to seeing his deep and sincere scowl had been to laugh, Aaron seriously considered going cliff jumping without a rope. And taking Adam down with him.

“Mate, c’mon, it’s a little funny.”

“Maybe for you,” Aaron said, post-shower and still pissed off. He shoved at Adam’s shoulder as they entered the Woolpack. It had once been a village local, but since the Saints had moved in, it was more or less just their bar. It was cosier than most biker bars, but Aaron kind of liked it that way. He wasn’t into the whole biker aesthetic as much as some of the others, helped somewhat by him only being the mechanic. He didn’t go out riding with the rest unless Cain asked especially, or if they were down a man. Chas was always poised to bawl her brother out for involving Aaron in any of the riskier jobs, and as much as Aaron would be up for it as a more regular thing, both him and Cain were more scared of Chas than of any rival gang-leader or member of the filth.

“How many times, Adam, the thing’s knackered! Get yourself a proper bike, like I know you can ride. Be a big boy, eh, and send the quad off to pastures less-than-new.”

“How can you say that, man?” Adam signalled over to the bar, a peace sign for two pints – though he owed Aaron about fifty for the morning he’d had – and they sat down at a table, Aaron’s back to the bar. “After all the good times we had with her?”

“Doin’ doughnuts around the sheep up at Butler’s?” Aaron said, idly. “Mm. Classic. Still not a reason to keep a clapped out piece of – “

“You take that back,” Adam smiled open mouthed, and leapt at Aaron, trying to put him in a headlock, the force of it launching him from his seat. Aaron just about swerved him, and managed to nick his seat for good measure.

“It’s tough love mate, no one else is gonna do it for you.”

“You’ve always been so harsh with her,” Adam fake-sulked, taking Aaron’s chair resignedly. “Never loved her like I did, man, she’s special.”

“She’s scrap.”

“She’s –“

“Wow,” said a new voice, two long fingered hands dropping their pints into view. “Some way to talk about the Mrs, that,” the stranger said. Aaron looked up at him. He didn’t belong here, was his first thought. Shiny blond hair, a smile of perfect teeth, and an air about him that walked the knife’s edge between _kiss me_ and _punch me_.

“You what, mate?” Aaron said, quick scan over with, he immediately got his back up. The blonde stilled, a flicker of uncertainty before he slid back into an easy grin.

“Don’t mind grumpy guts, mate,” Adam said, offering a hand out to the blonde. “You the new lad Charity was talking about?”

“That’s me,” the blonde said, with an eyeroll so quick Aaron was sure Adam would have missed it. “The _new lad._ Robert,” he said, and shook Adam’s hand.

“Adam.” He nodded to Aaron, “And that over there is Eeyore.”

“Pretty sure I know which one of the two of us is the donkey, mate,” Aaron shot back, crossing his arms. Robert huffed, an amused little sound, before he offered the same hand to Aaron. Reluctantly, Aaron took it. He couldn’t help but notice those long fingers again, how big Robert’s hands were in general. Aaron worked with his hands, he had an appreciation for them – and he had to admit, Robert’s were perfect. Except for being attached to a ponce.

“Aaron,” he finally said.

Robert nodded, released Aaron’s hand, which Aaron tucked behind his knee before pulling his leg up onto the chair, heel on the cushion’s edge.

“Think Charity might have sommat to say about you dirtying up the upholstery,” Robert said, crooked smile, eyes flicking between Aaron’s trainers and his eyes.

“Think you’re meant to leave our pints and jog on, _Robert._ ”

“Mate,” Adam interceded.

“Wow,” Robert shook his wrist so his shirt cuff pulled back and checked his watch, bewildered. “New record for me this. Got someone to hate me in under a minute.”

Aaron shuffled further into his chair. He didn’t know what this Robert’s game was, but if he wanted a fight he was in the right place for it. Biker bar and a punch up went together like butter and toast.

“Babe!” Adam burst out, cutting across any action and crossing the pub floor in big bounding steps as someone familiar entered. Aaron watched as he scooped the woman into a hug, then slobbered a kiss on her cheek. She slapped at his chest and he released her, still with that big soppy grin on.

“Stop fussing, you only saw me this morning.”

“Only saw you get out of bed and leave me,” Adam complained, then drew her in close again. “I like seeing you get in it way more.”

Aaron stared at the ceiling, but looked back at Robert again when he heard him open his gob.

“Disgusting,” Robert said, bold as brass, not even trying to muffle it. Aaron shot out of his chair, more than ready to get this toast buttered when Vic’s gasp stopped him in his tracks.

“Robert?” she said, incredulous.

Robert smirked, eyes alive and glittering with something that wavered between impish and dangerous. Aaron looked between them, saw Adam doing the same.

“You know this guy, babe?” Adam asked, arm still half wrapped round her shoulders. Vic didn’t take her eyes off Robert, her own smile starting to bloom.

“He’s my brother,” she said. Aaron darted his glance Robert’s way, taking him in afresh. Broad shoulders, pink lips, attractive and irritating with it. Robert held his arms out at his sides, palms facing out.

“Did you miss me?”


	2. Chapter 2

Robert let Vic yell at him for a bit after she trundled him back to her house in the village, just about managing to tear his eyes off Aaron on the way out the door as she did. Hardly more than a minute of knowing him and Robert could already say for certain that Aaron was rude, unfairly gorgeous, and more interesting than anyone Robert thought he might meet when he was forced to move back to the village he once called home. And Aaron’s eyes…they were really something.

He lost patience pretty quickly with Vic launching questions at him, and explaining in rough terms about his job – gone -, Chrissie – gone -, new job – looking up. When he got tired of the disappointed eyes and the big sighs he played his ace, the _and why didn’t **you** tell me your new boyfriend is part of a biker gang? _ace, which quickly pulled that line of conversation to a halt.

Instead, Robert got her to fill in some village gossip generally. Who married who while he was away, who’s sleeping with who even though they married that one, so on and so on. It was nice. Hands around a brew, sat at his sister’s kitchen table, catching up, the conspicuous gaps in the conversation excepted.

“Can I ask about Adam?” Robert asked, not caring in the least about Adam, but figuring it would be a good conversational backdoor into asking about Aaron. He wanted to know everything he could about him, in the same way that he liked to be prepared before an important client meeting. Information – it was the key to everything. It might even be the key to getting a non-hostile conversation out of Aaron. Or the promise of a drink. Or -

“No,” Vic said, primly. “But now that you’re here in the village…there’s something I want to put to you.”

“Shoot,” Robert said, already trying to work out how to loop back.

“It’s Mum’s anniversary in a few days,” Vic said, carefully. Robert paused, mug to his lips. He lowered it.

“I know.”

“You remembered?”

_Of course I remembered. How could I ever, ever forget._

“You never came back,” Vic broached. “For the others, I mean.”

“I did something myself,” Robert said, leaving off the implied _by myself_. “Went places I thought she’d like. Nice trees, or…a river once,” he said, looking into his tea, swivelling his mug to make the liquid move. He’d brought white roses that day, scattered some petals into the stream, forced himself to think of a happy memory for each flower, like she’d have wanted. He left the rest of the year for bitterness.

“I wish you’d have come home,” Vic murmured. He reached across the table and laid his hand on hers. He remembered holding her hand when they were kids, back when kickabouts and long stumbling walks around the farm were their biggest preoccupations. Her hands were bigger now, but still small in his.

“I’m here now,” he said.

“Exactly,” Vic said, decisively. “So you can come with me this time, yeah?”

“To her grave?”

“No, to Brighton. Yes, to the grave, Rob.”

“Who…who else’ll be there.”

“Diane,” Vic started, paused. “Andy and Katie. Don’t make a big thing of it Rob, okay, it’s Mum’s day, and all our day to remember her and – “

“Vic,” Robert squeezed her hand. “I’d not miss it.”

Vic smiled, small at first but growing, and Robert felt his chest swell in response. For more smiles like that from his little sister, he could make nice with Perfect Andy and his dream-farmhouse Barbie. For one day, he could do that. His mum’s day.

\--

Cain had a distinctive walk, and Aaron heard it, the _crunch crunch crunch_ of him trudging up the drive to the garage doors, and up to the car Aaron was currently under. Cain rapped his knuckles on the hood, the sound extra loud and resonant where Aaron was.

“Oi, what’s a bloke got to do for service in this dump?” Cain said, tapping his boot against Aaron’s where it stuck out from under the car.

“Wait five seconds,” Aaron answered, a touch snappily. He had slept through his alarm and started work late, which meant he’d have to finish late, so any job Cain was bringing him was just piling on at this point. Aaron gave the bolt he was tightening one last wrench, then dropped the tool on his chest and wheeled himself out.

Cain stared down at him.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Aaron groused, but acquiesced when Cain offered him a hand up off the dolly.

“Who put a bee in your bonnet?”

“No one.”

“Right. Forgot for second,” Cain prodded Aaron’s cheek. “Professional mardy arse over here.”

Aaron shrugged him off, grabbing a rag to clean his hands, “What do you want?”

“Charming. I’ve got a job for you.”

“If it’s Adam’s quad again tell him to take a running jump.” Cain scrubbed over the back of his neck, and Aaron sent his eyes ceilingward. “Cain – “

“It’s _about_ the quad, sort of. Not fixing it though, I want to see him off that thing as much as you.” Aaron eyed him.

“And the rest?”

Cain lightly kicked the car bumper, ignoring Aaron’s _oi, that’s a customer’s_ in favour of squinting off outside again with a stern cowboy set to his brow.

“Moira.”

“Ah.”

“She’s made some…suggestions.”

“Is one of them you sleeping on the couch because – “

“Cheeky git,” Cain slapped the back of Aaron’s head. “She wants him off the quad or out of the Saints. It’s too easily identified compared to the other bikes. It makes him stand out, and even though Yorkshire coppers are about the dimmest bulbs going she doesn’t want him risking getting sent down again.”

“What do you want me to do about it, I’ve all but dragged him off and sent the thing into the quarry and he still won’t budge.”

“This is what you can do about it,” Cain nodded outside, gesturing for Aaron to follow him to where his beemer was parked. Cain pulled his hands out of his pockets and popped the boot. Aaron peered in, and his eyes went wide.

“Is that – “

“Voice down big gob,” Cain elbowed him, craning his head to look around. Aaron rolled his eyes.

“Don’t reckon Pearl’d be too interested in a Yoshimura exhaust,” Aaron said. “Where’d you get it?”

“Never you mind where I got it, you don’t know anything about it. You just have to fit it up onto one of our standby bikes, right, along with some other bells and whistles I have coming.”

“So your plan is to wave something shiny in front of Adam and hope that gets him off the quad and onto a big boy bike?” Aaron folded his arms, watched as Cain’s face drew into a frown.

“Don’t reckon it’ll work?”

“Oh it’ll work,” Aaron admitted, scratching his temple. “Get your hands on a tinted windshield? Polycarbonate, even?”

“No bother,” Cain smirked. “Cheers lad. I’ll bring the other parts around later.” Cain clapped Aaron’s shoulder and shut his car boot, ready to take off.

“Is that it? You don’t need me for…”

Cain arched an eyebrow.

“Nothing to get me out of the garage, no?”

“Aaron,” Cain blew out a long sigh.

“Come on. You’re telling me you’ve nowt going on where you could use an extra man?”

“Where’s this coming from, eh? Thought you were happy in the garage.”

“I am,” Aaron bounced on the balls of his feet, avoiding Cain’s scrutinising gaze. He wasn’t the world’s most sensitive man but he knew Aaron pretty well. “Just a bit. Restless, s’all. Don’t matter.”

“Well you’ll be staying restless if you’re sittin’ on your arse hoping for _extra man_ jobs from me, lad,” Cain said. “Especially now.”

Aaron perked up at that. “What’s that mean, _especially now_?”

“On a bit of a recruitment drive as it happens.”

“Oh.” Aaron let that idea settle for a moment. Fresh blood kept the body of a gang alive, he knew that. It was still a surprise. “Who?”

Cain rubbed at his eye, flicked some grit away, clearly stalling. “The Barton Boys.”

Aaron had heard of them. It’d be impossible not to when Adam had spent a good year of his life imploding over being unexpectedly related to them. It was a revelation that nearly blew his life apart. And Aaron’s for that matter. Not to mention that Ross Barton was a walking liability, more abs than braincells.

“Cain, you can’t!” Aaron burst. Having that feckless air thief around would be hellish.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Cain squared up, affronted at being told what to do. That wasn’t so much a _gang leader_ thing as a Cain thing, though. He was the same way at Christmas when someone said to pass the gravy round.

“Eh, because they’re, in order; thick, dangerously thick, and soft with specs on?” That got a flash in the pan smile, but Cain buried it quickly, slapping a hand down on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Look, Aaron. Bigger crew, more expendables.” Cain squeezed, and Aaron relaxed in spite of himself. “I’d rather send them out than you, sunshine.”

“Mum breathing down your neck about me again?” Aaron guessed.

“No.” Cain shook his head slowly. “Remember, I’m the only one who knows how bad it was for you inside. You’ve done your time, yeah? Well, Adam’s time.”

Aaron nodded, kicked at the gravel a bit.

“Just trust me, yeah?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Aaron kept nodding, not sure who he was trying to convince.

“Good lad,” Cain gave him a last squeeze on the shoulder, then backed away, unlocking his car door. “I’ll be back with those parts.”

“Sound, yeah.” Aaron watched the back of the beemer until it was out of sight, then trudged his way back into the garage, the crunching sound of his boots just about enough to cover the echoes. Prison bars wheeling closed. The finality of the slam. The feeling of never getting out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert braves family dinner and his mum's memorial. Aaron just wants to put his feet up.

Andy and Katie’s cottage was modest. Small but not cramped, with homely touches scattered artfully all over the place – framed photos of their wedding, plump couch cushions, and so much tasteful _wood._ Every window looked out onto their tiny farm kingdom, Wylie’s spreading out in all directions. It was everything Andy ever wanted. Everything their Dad had ever wanted for them both.

Which made it all the more fun to sit around their massive slab of a wooden dining table, shoulder to shoulder, eating a family dinner before their trip to the cemetery, talking about how much of a failure Robert was.

“I always liked Chrissie, when I met her,” Diane said, cutting her lamb.

“Which was how many times?” Robert asked, jaw tight but voice stilled reined carefully into politeness. “Twice?”

“Hm. Once when I came up to London visiting, and then at the engagement party.” Robert speared a carrot on his fork, decidedly not reminding her that she had gone to London in the first place not to visit _him_ but an old friend. She stopped in at Robert and Chrissie’s flat on the way back to Yorkshire. An afterthought. “She was so…classy. I always say you can tell a lot about a person from the way they hold their neck. Very elegant neck.”

“I suppose,” Robert said, not having much opinion on Chrissie’s neck. Though he did admit, her class had been one of the initial draws. And she was elegant. Even the way she slammed the door in his face after kicking him out had a certain grace to it. _Panache_. “Just wasn’t meant to be.”

“And why was that, exactly?” Katie asked, innocent curiosity somewhat belied by her obvious delight. Robert took comfort in Vic rolling her eyes. “I mean, did you break up with her, mutual thing or…”

“She ended it.”

“Oh,” Katie said, her sympathetic smile not winning any Oscars. “Shame.”

“Isn’t it just,” Robert shovelled a forkful of potatoes into his mouth, made a big show of swallowing and smacking his lips. “Could someone pass the salt? The potatoes are a little plain, don’t you think Diane?”

“Well, I – “

“I think they’re a little plain,” Robert said. Andy passed him a salt grinder and Robert cracked it liberally over his whole plate. He’d make his dinner taste like the sea if he had to, as long as Katie kept making that slapped-arse face about it, the pots and pans from her afternoon’s work still waiting in the sink. “So Andy. How are the…cows?”

\--

Dinner carried on much in the same way until it came to a blessed close, and they divvied up the ferrying duties, Diane content to squeeze into the cab of Andy’s truck with love’s young dream.

“I’ll take Vic,” Robert said, twirling his car keys on his fingers.

“Sounds good,” Andy said. When they all made it outside, Robert watched their reactions carefully. Andy’s eyes widening when they landed on the Audi. Andy wasn’t much of a car guy, not like Robert, but even he must know enough to know he was looking at a truly gorgeous piece of machinery. “Nice car, Robert.”

“Cheers,” Robert said. “Drives like a dream.”

“Well at least you’ve still got that, eh?” Robert zeroed in on Andy’s face, found it blithe. Irritatingly sincere. Katie smirked. Even if Andy didn’t get the dig he just made, she did.

“Every cloud,” Robert grumbled. They all got in their respective cars, and Robert felt the antagonism leak out of him with each minute. They drew up to the cemetery, and Vic patted his hand on the gear shift. He smiled a small smile at her, looked at the flowers he had bought in the rearview, laid gently on the Audi’s back seats.

\--

They all said their piece. Andy in few words, Vic in loads, Diane in supportive looks to both. Andy laid down yellow tulips, and Vic some classic lilies. It was nice. It was nice to be here on this day, instead of by himself on a river bank, or sneaking away from Chrissie with an excuse. He never actually got around to telling her the anniversary date. The first year it seemed to soon, and the second, well. He didn’t want to introduce his mum to the woman he was marrying and cheating on. He couldn’t take the thought of her displeasure turned his way, imagining judgement on the face of someone who never judged him. Never made him feel dirty like Jack did, like a perpetual fuck up, a lost cause.

So he went alone. But not this year.

“Mum, I – “ Robert swallowed. He looked down at his feet. He was used to doing this without a grave to focus on, without an audience to play to. He glanced at Vic, who nodded encouragingly. He cleared his throat. “You were…so special. You were such an amazing person. Kind, and funny, and – “ Robert paused. Breathed. “Loving. I’ve never met another person as good as you, or who made as many carrot cakes as you did and still could never get it right.”

Robert looked up at the clouds, blinking. Then back down to the stone. Always homing in on the stone. _Devoted mother of Robert, Andy, and Victoria._ He huffed under his breath. The only place where he ever came first.

“I probably won’t ever again.” Robert leant down and placed his flowers at the headstone, pink ones that he didn’t know the name of but when he saw them he thought she’d like. He’d buy her a world of roses, no matter the cost, but he thought she’d probably like whatever these were best. Simple. Pretty. A touch of the wildflower about them.

“I love you, mum. I’ve missed you every day.”

The cemetery was so quiet. Which was why he heard the whisper Katie buried half in Andy’s neck.

“Funny way of showing it.”

Robert’s eyes landed on her instantly, and Andy had frozen next to her.

“Katie – “

“No go on,” Robert said, pointedly. “So the whole class can hear, eh?”

Katie looked at him, guilt flickering on her face. She didn’t mean for him to hear, but it didn’t change the fact that he did. Or that she said it in the first place. Didn’t dampen the fire she had just lit at the base of his lungs.

“Go on, what did you say?” he yelled.

“Robert!” Vic took a step closer to him, attempting to calm him down with a hand at his elbow.

“Nothing we weren’t all thinking,” Katie said, the guilty look evaporating, congealing in a sneer. “Just that for someone who missed her so much you’d think you’d remember an anniversary before now.”

“Katie, stop,” Andy said. If Robert had been calmer, maybe he could have appreciated it. Thought that for all his faults, Andy never doubted that Robert loved Sarah. But he wasn’t calm. He noticed Vic about to pipe in and quelled her with a look.

Katie didn’t get to know about his lonely memorials, about every year’s quiet remembering. She didn’t get to know about it, because it was his. His and Sarah’s, and he wasn’t about to let Vic use it as a way to apologise for him.

“Yeah well some of us don’t need to travel to remember things,” Robert said, shaking off Vic’s hand, closing the distance between himself, Andy and Katie. “I’ve a great memory, me. Remember loads of things.” He purposely dragged his eyes up Katie’s body, watched as her expression grew repulsed and Andy’s furious. He winked.

“You’re disgusting,” Katie spat.

“ _I’m_ disgusting? You’re the one getting in your snidey remarks at _my mum’s memorial,_ you bitter little slapper.”

“Oi – “ Andy stepped forward.

“Oi what. You’ve less right to be here even than she does,” Robert said, digging his heels in. “And if you didn’t want people to call your wife a slapper,” he leaned in close, confidential, “you shouldn’t have married one.”

They were rolling around in the grass in record time. The three women were screaming and shouting, Andy managing to get an elbow up to knock Robert’s chin. His teeth rang in his skull. He shook his head to clear it and managed to get on top of Andy, not heavy like the other man but quicker. He sat on Andy’s stomach, braced a hand on his brother’s broad chest, and drew back his fist. Andy scrunched his eyes shut in anticipation of the blow, breaths heaving. Robert hesitated, glanced at the grave. Her name in that distinctive copperplate.

She’d hate this.

Robert felt quick hands at his shoulders tugging him back, taking advantage of his pause and he landed on his arse in the grass. He looked up at Vic, saw the disappointment in her face, the tear tracks. She looked so much like his mum it cleaved his heart in two. The wind went out of him.

“Vic…”

“Clear off, Robert, you’ve caused enough trouble for one day,” Diane burst, pulling Vic away from him to stand with an arm around her shoulder. Vic looped her own arm around their stepmother’s waist, while Katie helped Andy up.

“Diane, I – “

“Just go, Robert,” Vic said, voice tearful again. “Please.”

“But – “

“You heard them Robert,” Katie cut in, hand still pressed to Andy’s chest, long sheet of blonde hair catching the breeze. “They don’t want you here, no one does.”

“Fuck you – “

“Robert!” Diane gasped, then lowered her voice. “We are in a _cemetery,_ show some respect.”

“Respect?” Robert laughed. Looked back up to the sky. Those clouds had looked so much less threatening a few minutes ago, fluffy canvases to paint in Sarah’s memory. “Respect,” he murmured. He turned his back on them, headed back to his car, hoping all the time that someone would call him back. His ears were alert to the sound of Vic’s voice, but it never came, and he made it all the way back to where he’d parked without another word directed his way.

\--

Ten minutes later, Robert heard a noise. Eleven minutes later, he saw white steam coming from under his bonnet, which before minute twelve, became a belching grey smog.

The car stopped dead in the road.

Robert hammered his hands on the steering wheel, leaving the bones of his hands ringing.

“Fuck!” he shouted in the enclosed space. “Fuck.”

He gripped the wheel, hunching over, knowing what was coming as his throat squeezed closed and hating it anyway. Tears boiled over and the fight went out of him. Fucking Katie. Fucking Andy. His fucking Dad and all the messes he made, Robert the biggest of them all.

His poor mum. _If she could see me now,_ he mocked himself, catching his own eye in the rearview mirror and only just resisting the urge to snap it off it’s little arm.

 _If she could see you now_ , the truthful part of him said, _she’d hold you close. She’d listen. She’d love you anyway._

Robert bowed low, forehead pressed against the back of his wrists, letting it out, out, out.

He got out of the car. Locked it.

Walked back to the village.

\--

Aaron was wrapping up for the day, wiping his hands on a rag and looking forward to a night of having his feet up, not talking to anyone, and getting stuck into the new issue of _Evo_. A flash of light hair caught his eye, and he looked up to see Robert trudging up the drive, eyes fixed on the ground in front of him, a haunted, drawn look to him.

“Closing,” Aaron said, when Robert was close enough to hear. He stopped in his tracks, first in surprise – he probably hadn’t been round long enough to know Aaron worked here, he reasoned – and then stricken. He looked like he’d just had his strings cut. Then he laughed. Then laughed harder.

Aaron furrowed his brow, watching as Robert unspooled his insides in cackles. A dark red mark was blooming on his chin, and his hair was floppy from sweat at his hairline. He must’ve walked a fair way, Aaron thought, judging from the dustiness of his shoes.

“Eh…you alright mate?” Aaron asked, not sure he wanted to know. Having to explain to Vic that her brother had a fit of hysteria in his workplace was not on his evening itinerary.

“Course!” Robert cried. “You’re closing, I’ve had to leave my car in the middle of a country road, and one of Katie’s _flipping_ horses would be more welcome at the family table but I am just – “ Robert clenched his fists at his sides, flexed his fingers. “Alright. Course I am.”

Aaron eyed him. Clocked the scuffed skin on his knuckles, his total lack of composure. Then remembered. Vic was going to the cemetery today, for her mum. Robert’s mum. Aaron glanced back into the garage, at Robert, then the sky. He closed his eyes, thought wistfully of _Evo._

“Right,” he sniffed. “Gimme two minutes to lock up, yeah?”

Robert blinked. “Eh?”

“You know where you left your car, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah I – “

“Might be able to get it running again out there, but I’ll bring the tow anyway. If it needs the tow though, I’ll not be seeing to it till morning at earliest, yeah?”

“Eh, yeah, that’s – “

Aaron pulled the garage door’s closed, toolbox in hand. He locked up, dropped the tools in the back of the tow, then put one boot on the step up into the cab before looking back at Robert, who watched him, openly confused. Aaron rolled his eyes, beckoned him with a nod.

“You gonna show me where your car is or are you gonna just stand there like a lemon?”

Robert wavered, glanced over his shoulder like Aaron was a host on one of those prank shows and the shoe was about to drop. Aaron sighed.

Robert took a step. Another. When they were both in the tow, Aaron started it up, the grumble of the engine under the radio as they pulled out of the garage’s drive. He looked over to Robert and found the other man already staring, the close scrutiny lighting something up in Aaron’s belly, in his cheeks. He sniffed.

“Where to?”


	4. Chapter 4

Aaron let out a low whistle when they pulled up behind Robert’s car. It was the first noise either of them had made on the drive over, directions excepted, but Aaron couldn’t help himself. Motorcycles were his specialty and a joy, but a car like that, well. A car like that could get a bloke back on the other side of the forecourt.

“Impressed?” Robert asked, cocky smirk slipping back into its customary place. Aaron rolled his eyes a bit, switching off the tow’s engine. He shrugged, his jacket rustling in the quiet of the cab.

“Might be if it wasn’t broken down in the middle of sheep country,” Aaron said, idly. He didn’t wait for Robert’s response, letting himself down out of the truck and grabbing his toolbox. He heard Robert do the same on the other side and called out to him. “Smoking from under the bonnet you said?”

“Yeah,” Robert replied, popping up beside Aaron. “Which probably means engine, right?”

Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“I was a mechanic for a bit myself,” Robert explained, holding his head up daringly. Like he thought Aaron – a mechanic – was going to judge him for being a mechanic. Aaron eyed him, the tense line of his jaw, the _come have a go_ glint in his eyes. A stony façade but fissures, fissures everywhere. Aaron reminded himself of the day, how raw Robert was probably feeling.

“Couldn’t have been much of one,” Aaron said, breezing past him. “Didn’t fancy a look in yourself?”

“Didn’t have any tools with me,” Robert said to Aaron’s back, sounding off kilter.

“S’what I mean. Any mechanic worth his salt has some emergency spanners in the boot at least,” Aaron turned on his heels, still walking backwards to the car but facing Robert. “Keys?”

Robert paused, then dug into his pocket and tossed them Aaron’s way. He caught them in his free hand and faced the car. A few minutes of silence passed as Aaron did his preliminary checks, poking in amongst the familiar twists of metal. As much as motorcycles had become his forte, there was something irreplaceable about being under the hood of a car – especially a car as gorgeous as this – that he couldn’t give up. He remembered back when he was in college, getting chosen out of the whole class to be on the specialist placement their one-time guest lecturer ran. His quiet pride when he told his mum, and Cain, buried under his bragging as he fronted it out. He didn’t want to disappoint.

Just as well he was a great mechanic, he supposed.

“So, good news or bad news first?” Aaron said, after tinkering for a bit. He stood up from where he leaned over the car, swiping his oily fingers on his overalls. He looked over his shoulder and – hm. Robert was looking square at him, in the way that someone only did if they had been looking somewhere else a moment before.

“Eh?” Robert questioned, blithely. Aaron paused. Considered.

“Good news then. There’s a mechanic in you yet. It’s definitely to do with the engine.”

“Great,” Robert said, not sounding at all pleased. “And the bad news?”

“Engine block is cracked,” Aaron gestured with his spanner, “it’ll be a big, expensive job.” Aaron sniffed, wiping his nose on his overall sleeve. The November air was pinching at his cheeks, his face filling from being leaned over the car. “Sorry mate.”

Robert stared bleakly at the car, then looked back at Aaron, up and down, and not in the way Aaron liked.

“Well I could always get a second opinion,” Robert said. Aaron snorted.

“Yeah you do that. I’d like to see you find someone better than me between here and Leeds, mate.” He pointed at the Audi with the spanner again. “Your engine block is cracked and needs replacing. So either chuck money at me and it’ll get fixed, or chuck money at someone else and hope they tell you sommat different. It’s no skin off my nose.”

Robert squared up to him, which might make Aaron laugh if he wasn’t getting so wound up by the ponce.

“You’re awfully sure of yourself, for a one-garage-village mechanic.”

“You’re awfully doubting of me, for someone who needs my help,” Aaron shot back. Aaron ran his eyes over Robert’s face again, smirked. He turned away.

When he felt Robert’s hand tugging insistently on his arm, Aaron swung himself around, fisted his hands in Robert’s lapels, and pinned him up against the car.

“Don’t touch me,” Aaron said. You let the bloke out of prison, but prison never really leaves the bloke. At least not this bloke. There were a lot of things about himself that hadn’t existed before he did time. He’d never been touchy feely, but now, being touched when he wasn’t expecting it, especially from behind… he shoved Robert again, then let go of his jacket, taking a few steps back. “Don’t – touch me.”

“Psycho,” Robert said, dusting himself off. Aaron spitefully hoped his motor oil splattered overalls had left a mark somewhere on his highness’s ensemble. He pointed at Robert.

“What is the matter with you, eh? Coming out here, I was doing you a favour. Don’t know why I flipping bothered.”

“So why did you?” Robert challenged, closing the space between them by a step.

“Because you looked pathetic dragging yourself up the forecourt, and – “ Aaron faltered, remembering why he was out here in the first place, November curling her arms around him as the evening dark drew in.

“And?” Robert raised his eyebrows.

“Because I know what today is,” Aaron said, keeping his face and voice neutral. If Robert was looking for a fight, Aaron wasn’t going to give him one. If he could say one good thing for prison, Aaron had learned how to deescalate a fight there when he didn’t want to be having one. _If_ he didn’t want to be having one.

“Well good for you, seven days of a week, you should be proud – “

“Your mum,” Aaron cut him off. “Her anniversary today. In’t it?”

Robert seemed distinctly caught off guard, lips parted around surprise. “You… how – “

“Vic. She’s a mate.”

“She told you?”

Aaron shrugged. “It’s November. I don’t have a lot of dates to remember.”

Robert took that in, looking at Aaron with a new edge.

“She talked about you, y’know. While you were…wherever you were.” Aaron volunteered the information, something in Robert’s white knuckle grip on control speaking to him. Robert pieced together a smug grin.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Said you were a cocky so-and-so, that you’ve got a One True Love thing going with having a big bank balance,” Aaron flicked his eyes at the car and back. Robert stared at him, the flash of hurt in his eyes giving him away as he tried to keep his gaze steady. “That you’re protective of her. That you and Andy get on about as well as you do with the local mechanic – “ Robert huffed a little laugh, surprised out of him, going off the way the little puff of air visibly danced and twirled in the cold.

“Not punched you graveside yet though, have I?”

That gave Aaron pause. “That what happened today is it?”

“Among other things,” Robert forced the words out, slowly, fragmented.

“You – “ Aaron broached, twisting the spanner in his hands. “You want to tell me about it? I need to have another look before we get this towed back to the garage.”

Silence on Robert’s side. Aaron sighed out a breath, the white plumes bringing him back to his smoking days, lighters and nicotine. Spark, flame, slow.

Aaron lifted his shoulders, let them drop. “Suit yourself,” he mumbled, then turned back to the car. The night absorbed the quiet chinks and twinkling sounds of metal against metal, like dropping knives on a sheet of velvet.

“Katie’s Sunday roast isn’t a patch on my mum’s,” Robert said, from behind him. Aaron stilled. Nodded. Waited for more. “No one’s is,” he said.

Aaron kept working.

\--

They towed the Audi back to the garage, Aaron mulling over Robert’s version of the day’s events. He knew Vic must be in bits, but the way he could feel the energy coiling off Robert in whipping tendrils, he wouldn’t say he was much better. And he wasn’t stupid, he knew what Robert told him was just that. Vic would have another version, Diane hers as well, and there were parts where Aaron had gotten the sense that Robert was exaggerating things Andy did or said, underplaying his own venomous contributions. It was complicated. It made Dingle Christmas look like a polite, multiple-fork affair.

Well. Nothing could quite do that. No one did Christmas like the Dingles did Christmas.

Though it seemed no one did tragic anniversaries like the Sugdens did tragic anniversaries.

Every family has something, Aaron supposed.

They climbed out of the truck again and Aaron moved the Audi into the garage, shifting someone else’s Skoda out of the way, much to Robert’s smirking approval.

“If that got nicked I get the idea that I’d never be rid of you,” Aaron said, by way of explanation.

“Probably not,” Robert conceded. Aaron locked up for the second time of the night, taking his time, letting the quiet settle.

“Aaron,” Aaron turned around and saw Robert lowering his hand like he had reached out to catch Aaron’s shoulder and thought better of it. Fast learner. “Thanks.”

“No bother,” Aaron pressed his mouth into a line, drawing down at the corners. “You’ll be getting a bill, might want to withhold thanking me just yet.”

“Ah, I see how it is. Should have known the knight in shining overalls act was all heading towards a price gouge.” He said it without heat, maybe even a little shyness. _No,_ Aaron thought. That was his imagination jumping ahead about a dozen steps. Robert opened up to him after a terrible day, in the middle of nowhere. That was enough to make anyone bashful.

Though Robert Sugden didn’t strike Aaron as the bashful type. Usually. Aaron dug the toe of his boot into the ground.

“Worth it though,” he said.

“If only for the service with a smile,” Robert joked. Aaron felt the corners of his mouth twitch, but he reigned it in.

“Gotta earn a smile, mate,” Aaron said, shoving his hands, still in dirty gloves, in his overall pockets. Robert raised his eyebrows.

“How would I go about that exactly?”

“Hafta write you a manual do I?” Aaron shrugged. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

They both stood in the forecourt, watching each other. Aaron felt unsettled in his skin, but not uncomfortable. The whole village out behind them, the wide open sky - it was all just too big. He wanted to be closer, to be in a smaller space. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, and noticed Robert doing the same, looking at Aaron with a hard to place expression. Speculative? Curious?

“You could’ve just gone home,” Robert said, finally. The unspoken question stood there like a third man in the road.

“Sounds like you had a shit day. Piling on in’t my style.” Aaron scratched his stubble. “Besides, I have met Andy.”

“Oh yeah, and?”

“Bit of a wanker, in’t he?”

Robert laughed, the sound shocked out of him and just as surprising to Aaron in its fullness. Not a huff of amusement, or an exhale on the edge of a smug smirk. A burst of a sound, genuine and free. Aaron smiled himself, a little proud to have prised it out of Robert.

“The day I’ve had, I could kiss you for that,” Robert said, and Aaron went still. Robert cleared his throat. Their eyes met.

Aaron didn’t back down, didn’t lean forward, let that big space between them stand as it was. Waited for Robert to wade across it. To make the move.

Robert stepped back, the crunch of the gravel like a shot in the night.

“Thanks again,” Robert said, voice tight. Aaron watched him with the expert eye of someone who had spent a lot of his own time running scared.

He nodded. Robert started to walk away.

“I’ll text you,” Aaron said, casual as you like. Robert nearly dislocated a disc looking back at him. Aaron winked. “’Bout the car.”

“Course, yeah. Thanks. See you around?”

“I do live here,” Aaron pointed out.

“Same, now,” Robert tilted a smile back. Aaron wouldn’t call it guileless, he didn’t know if Robert could do guileless. “Suppose we’ll be seeing a lot of each other then.”

“Suppose we will,” Aaron agreed.

Aaron watched him go, the space between growing wider and bigger still. He looked up at the moon, a perfect picture framed by clouds. Crescent and bowed, a tilted, sideways smile.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron has a word with Vic, Robert...reflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone who left nice comments on the last chapter, i've been a little unsure of this one to be honest, it was nice to hear people are reading/enjoying :)

The next morning Aaron was on top of it all. Phone call to get Robert’s engine block ordered – done, fitted Adam’s surprise bike up with the new exhaust, updated the garage books where he’d fallen behind a bit, and called Debbie to let her know how it was all going. Though maybe he should have left that one off, as the traitor formerly known as cousin put him straight onto Chas, who gave him an earful over not calling enough.

As much as he’d been unhappy as any of the other Dingles that Sarah needed to be near a specialist in Leeds, when Chas had gone with Debbie to help her settle he had hoped he’d get some relief from the endless head pecking. No such luck.

Aaron pushed in the door to the café, just in time to see Adam’s back as he headed to the loo. Aaron got a latte off Bob, and after a quick scan of the place, found Vic’s bright head.

“Alright Vic?” Aaron asked, tossing himself back into the armchair opposite her and stretched his arms overhead, feeling the little pops in his spine from being stuck in one position in the garage.

“Not really, no,” Vic snapped.

“Fuck,” Aaron said, flaring his eyes and reaching for an abandoned paper on the table next to them. “Sorry I asked.”

“No, I’m. Ugh. Sorry, I’m just having a nightmare at the moment, that’s all.” Vic tucked her hair behind her ears.

“Oh, that’s all? Work? Thought you liked that new restaurant in Hotten? _Anything to get away from Marlon_ you said.”

“And I stand by it,” Vic said, half-joking, just like she was the first time. “It’s not work. It’s family. Robert kicked off at the memorial.”

Aaron steadily didn’t react, tossed the paper back onto the same table again. Waited.

“He and Katie don’t half wind each other up but…it’s been years! I just wanted it to be a nice day. For Mum. I love Robert, I do, but he doesn’t half know how to stick the boot in.”

“It’s not just him though, is it? It’s Andy and Katie too.”

“Yeah, but every other year it’s been great. Andy’s really there for all of us.”

“Yeah and you’re all really there for Andy. Diane, you, Katie. Even Sarah and Jack in a way, the graves being so close.”

Vic eyed him, chin disappearing into her neck for a second as she took in what he was saying. “What’s your point?”

Aaron scratched his chin, wishing he’d just made a cuppa at the garage and left it at that. Some break this was turning out to be. “Just…every other year Robert’s been alone with it.”

“That was his choice though, he didn’t have to move away so far, or he could have come back for the anniversaries.”

Aaron blinked at that.

“Do you blame him, when this is the reception? Everything kicks off with Andy, and when the dust settles you blame him for it and think it’d have been better if he didn’t come – I’m not having a go, Vic,” he said, raising his hands when she furrowed her brow and opened her mouth. “Bitta benefit of the doubt couldn’t do any harm though, could it? He’s your brother too.”

“Where is this coming from? You don’t even know him.” She folded her arms.

“No I…I know I don’t. But I saw him yesterday and he seemed proper cut up about it.”

“You _saw_ him?”

“He had a breakdown.”

“He what?” Vic’s face curdled into panic and Aaron realised his slip.

“Car! His car had a breakdown.” Vic settled at the assurance, and Aaron scrubbed the back of his head. “It’s none of my business, Vic. Just, don’t write him off yeah?”

“Why’d you care?”

Aaron considered. Why _did_ he care? He thought about the defeated way Robert had slumped up to the garage. The simmering resentment, the kind that corroded a person’s insides until they were emptied out, nothing left but a hollow body drenched in poison. He shrugged, scratching his fingernail along a seam in the armchair’s fabric.

“Know sommat about being on the outside of my family.”

Vic’s eyes went soft. “The Dingles love you. They always have, deep down.”

“Maybe,” Aaron said. “But lovin’ me didn’t mean they wanted me. Not at first. I know I did plenty to deserve it but… feeling like the only option is to kick off before you get kicked out? I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.” Aaron tilted his head, corners of his mouth pulling down. “Even your prat of a brother.”

Vic smiled, small and considering. Aaron only hoped she understood what he was saying. For her own sake, and for Robert’s. Aaron asked her to tell Robert next time she saw him that Aaron had ordered in the engine block and she nodded distractedly, still mulling. Aaron had said his piece.

He picked up his latte and just as he brought it to his lips, Adam slapped both hands down on Aaron’s shoulders with a _oi oi lad._ Aaron made to elbow him in the gut as he moved to sit next to Vic, Adams new bike-to-be in the back of his mind.

No rest for the wicked.

\--

When Robert woke up the first thing he did was check his phone for texts. The second thing he did was be disappointed by the lack of them.

Robert flopped onto his back, scratching his chest and staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t a flash room, the one Charity had given him as part – the largest part – of his pay packet. In the back of the Woolpack, shared kitchen, shared bathroom. It was like being a student. But it was a roof over his head and hey – he’d never liked a commute.

He sent a text to Vic to test the waters, not expecting anything back judging by her face as he left the cemetery. At least now he had a slightly less pathetic excuse for checking his phone every minute and a half – he was eager to make up with his sister, not hankering after a message from the mechanic about his car. Or anything else.

Robert lit up the screen again. Nothing. From either.

He still couldn’t wrap his head around Aaron yesterday, couldn’t work out his angle. Half regretting that he spilled his guts in the middle of the road, Aaron only offering small nods and grunts as Robert relayed the events of the day, Robert sighed. What was he thinking?

What was Aaron?

Robert thought back to him, leaning over Robert’s car, blue overalls smeared with oil and hair collecting dewy mist as the night darkened around them both. And okay, Robert allowed himself, Aaron’s arse. It was hard not to look, with Aaron in that position. Robert thought about what might have happened if he had sidled up behind him, put his fingers on Aaron’s hipbones. Tugged them into alignment, pressing firm up against him. Or the fierce look on Aaron’s face as he had shoved Robert up against the car. His hot breath on Robert’s face, his eyes even more striking up close.

Or on the forecourt. If Robert had made his racing thoughts stop for just a moment, just long enough to tilt Aaron’s chin up, press lip to lip. Give him the kiss Robert mortifyingly offered.

He couldn’t be blamed for that either though. Disliking Andy was a deeply attractive quality for Aaron to have. For anyone to have, frankly. And the fact that Aaron hadn’t laid him out for having said it was…probably positive?

His mind was full of Aaron this morning. A collage of his best angles, his capable hands at work. Robert let out a shaky breath, dipped his hands below the covers, skimmed down his own belly. Started, shamelessly, to stroke.

Thanked Christ for blue overalls and a late-starting morning.

\--

Robert was part way into his shift when his phone finally beeped, and he made a grab for it.

Charity laughed, sharp and loud. “Steady on. Whoever she is can wait, I’m sure. Bite her hand off like that and she might ask for it back, yeah.”

Robert raised an eyebrow at her. “Eh?”

Charity rolled her eyes, nodded at the phone in his hand. “Desperation,” she explained, drawing the word out slowly at she served a glass of white. “Not a good look.”

“You’d know,” Robert said, eyes fixed on the screen, both surprised and disappointed to see it was Vic.

“Oi, talk to all your employers like that?”

“Only the nosy ones,” Robert said distractedly, opening the message.

“Soul of wit, this one,” Charity muttered jokingly to the punter, and Robert smiled.

_On shift tonight, tea at mine tomorrow tho?_

Robert had expected to have to do a lot more grovelling than, well, _no_ grovelling to get Vic to speak to him after the day before.

“Hot date, then?” Charity leered over.

“My sister,” Robert clarified, typing back.

“Eh. Different strokes I suppose?” Charity grimaced. Robert barely restrained himself from taking a little swipe at her, grimacing himself.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he said. “They’re more your strokes from what I’ve heard anyway, aren’t you and Cain sort of cousins?”

Charity decidedly didn’t restrain herself from taking a swipe, Robert stepping out of the way just in time. There was a playful energy about it though. Or, he hoped. Roof, job, and a chance – Charity held a lot over him.

“Wow, you really are an incredible arsehole, aren’t you?”

“Everyone’s gotta be good at sommat,” Robert said, and grinned when the sparkle came back to her eye.

“Go be good at pulling pints, right,” Charity gestured at another punter flagging him with a five pound note. Robert chuckled, pressed send on his _see you then_ text to Vic, and went to serve, wondering what to bring to dinner. What said, _I’m sorry for getting in a punch up with our idiot brother, again_?

Red, or white?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron gives Robert his bill, a conversation, and possibility.

Aaron wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, sighing as he shook out his limbs. He’d been working hell for leather on Robert’s Audi, the new engine block firmly in place. Altogether it only took him a couple of days – not bad for someone working a garage alone. And not that he minded a minute of the time spent under that hood. He was putting a lot of work into the new bike for Adam, it was nice to get back to a car again, almost nostalgic.

Adam had come round the day before, levering himself up on the high table and swinging his legs as Aaron worked on it, letting him know that Vic and Robert’s peace making dinner went well.

“Don’t know how though mate. Two seconds in a room with that guy and I wanted to chuck him out the door.”

“Why, he say sommat?”

“Y’know man, just little digs and stuff. Things that’d have me look like the petty one if I brought it up with Vic. Don’t reckon he’s too impressed with me being in the Saints.”

“Would you be,” Aaron asked, tightening a bolt, pressing his lips together. “If it was your sister who’d gone off with someone dodgy?”

“Eh, Holly goes with dodgy blokes like it’s going out of style mate. And you know I’m not like that. I treat Vic right, don’t I?”

“Yeah _I_ know you do, but I’m not her brother.” Aaron leaned back out from the car, peeling off his gloves.

“Andy likes me,” Adam groused, frowning down between his knees.

“Andy spends all day making conversation with cows, he’s not hard to please,” Aaron said, gratified when Adam raised his head with a fresh grin. Aaron snapped his glove at him, the oily plastic _thwapping_ into his face. “And your mum gave him his wages for years. She practically paid your deposit for being a shithead boyfriend.”

“Alright, is it my birthday or sommat?” Adam hopped down off the table, poking Aaron’s chest and stomach as Aaron batted him away. “You keep talkin’ so sweet to me mate I might forget about all the in laws and just run off with you instead.”

“Like I’d have you,” Aaron scoffed, throwing his other glove in the bin. He pulled up short. “ _In-laws_?”

Adam shook his head. “Figure of speech, mate. Not for a while, yeah.”

“But…you reckon?”

“Yeah,” Adam smiled, big and goofy like a cartoon, birds chirping and flying around his head. “Yeah, might do.” Aaron clapped his back, happy for him. Before Aaron had gone inside, Adam was at such a low point. The grief, the rage. And it didn’t get any better when the Barton family tree came up more tangled than expected. He’d had a time of it. It was good to see him happy. Hopeful for the future.

All that was left was to get him off that bloody quad bike and get Cain out of Aaron’s hair.

\--

Aaron walked into the Woolpack, freshly showered and ready to sink more than one pint. Between the Audi, the bike, and the regular garage clientele, he was shattered. He could’ve fallen asleep in the shower, standing up like a horse, but he had some last business to attend to.

He approached the bar, finding Robert quickly. It was a slow enough night, just a low hum of activity - nothing too rowdy. It was a nice atmosphere, warm compared to the November air, enough people to create a mood but not to make it sweaty. Aaron found himself hyper aware of spaces since prison, where reading the room could be the difference between a regular if regimented day, and getting a sharpened comb handle in the back.

Charity popped up.

“Heard from your mum lately?” she asked, no preamble. Aaron raised an eyebrow, pushing himself onto a stool. “Yeah, yeah, how are you, how’s the garage, how’s tricks? Good, yeah, great, brilliant! Chat done. Talked to your mum?”

“A bit.”

“And?”

“I don’t know when she’s coming back. Why don’t you ask Debbie, they live together.”

“Ugh. You’re no help. As usual. Just like your mum.”

Aaron tilted his head, scrunching up his nose. “Normal people just say when they miss someone.”

Charity rolled her eyes, but her shoulders relaxed, dropping away from her ears, and the sharper edge to her voice melted off. “ _Normal,_ ” she scoffed, “what’re you like, eh?” She put her weight into one hip, hand on the other in a jaunty, devil-may-care posture that could have fooled someone else, maybe, but Aaron saw straight through. Charity was probably missing the spontaneous sing-songs and bickering as much as Chas was. “What can I get you, anyway?”

“Robert,” Aaron said, nodding over to where he was serving. Charity blew her eyes wide and raised her eyebrows. “Business,” Aaron clarified, before she could get a word out. “I fixed up his car.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days?” Charity gasped, mock-scandalised.

“Charity – “

“One tall glass of water, coming right up, Aaron,” she winked. He rolled his eyes as she wandered over, pointed him out to Robert like they were all on a night out and Aaron had just asked her to tell her mate he fancied him. Robert caught his gaze and Aaron nodded his chin up at him. Charity held Robert by the forearm another few moments, saying god knew what, but eventually gestured Robert over, giving Aaron two big thumbs up behind Robert’s back.

_This fucking family._

Robert caught hold of the bar in front of Aaron. There was a twinkle in his eyes that looked like it could light the way to the nearest trouble. “What can I do ya for?” he asked.

 _Free,_ Aaron thought, then shook his head. He dug into his coat pocket and pulled out the bill he’d put together earlier, tapping the edge of the envelope on the bar top before pushing it over.

“Check’s fine,” Aaron said, chewing his gum, moving it around his mouth though it lost its flavour ten minutes back. “Cash is better.”

“My car’s done?” Robert looked surprised. “Already?”

“Yeah. I told Vic to tell you – “

“That you ordered the part, I didn’t expect this yet, though.”

Aaron put his hands out at his sides in a light gesture. “Mechanic. S’what I’m paid for.”

“Right, that price gouge. Suppose I should see what I’m – “ Robert tore open the envelope, running one long finger through the fold as he spoke, then stopping short, face falling. He looked back at Aaron. “This isn’t enough.”

Aaron shrugged. “S’what the bill says.”

“But – “

“You could complain about anything, you. First person alive to pull a face like that at good news.”

“No I just,” Robert leaned back, eyed Aaron suspiciously. “You’ve done sommat dodgy to it.”

Aaron stiffened. Stood up off his stool.

“You want to run that by me again, mate?” To his credit, Robert looked like he immediately regretted saying it, but Aaron wasn’t about to be messed around or accused by someone who turned his nose up at a cheap mechanic’s bill and then probably forked out a hundred quid for a poncey haircut.

“I – sorry. I didn’t mean that, I just don’t.” Robert waved the bill again like Aaron had given it to him written in Swahili. “I just don’t understand.”

Aaron leaned in close over the bar, drawing a few eyes but keeping his voice low even in his anger. “You just broke off an engagement, punched your brother in a graveyard, and cracked a very, very important piece of your very, very shiny car. You’re a mate’s brother. Do I have to spell it out or sommat?”

Robert scanned his face, and Aaron forced himself to calm down. He rolled his shoulders.

“So this is – “

“A favour,” Aaron finished for him. “Y’know. Sommat people do when they’re try’nta be nice?”

“Which I’ve thrown back in your face,” Robert continued, confusion smoothed from his face as he looked down at the bill in his hands. “Again.”

“Too right.” Aaron went to push off the bar, fed up and ready to leave.

“Wait,” Robert reached for him but didn’t touch. Aaron paused, was quietly interested in the way Robert’s voice softened. “Aaron. I’m. I’m sorry. Guess I’ve been in business too long…don’t know someone being generous from them trying to have one over on me.”

Aaron frowned, looked off to the side, said nothing.

“I really am sorry. Mates?” Aaron glanced him. Pressed his mouth into a line. Robert’s own mouth twitched at the corner. “You’re not half hard work, are you?”

“Says King Muppet himself,” Aaron snorted. Looked off to the side again. Back. “Make it up. Get me a pint?”

“On me, I’m assuming.”

Aaron arched his eyebrow. “Even a broke clock’s right twice a day.”

\--

Robert would personally go door to door in the village tomorrow to shake the hand of every person who didn’t come to the Woolpack. It meant it was a slow night. And a slow night meant he could continually float back to where Aaron was making even slower work of his pint. Robert looked over as he mixed up a G&T, just a glance to see Aaron pull his top lip into his mouth to wipe away a line of foam. He settled up with the punter, then circled back again.

“Hope you didn’t miss me too much,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning them down on the bar across from Aaron. Aaron was holding his phone with one corner pressed into the wood, rotating it like a globe on an axis. “Having to share me with my adoring public,” he nodded over to the woman he just served, now sitting with her small group in a corner booth. She wasn’t even looking their way, he just wanted to see how Aaron would react. He needed an answer, before he got too far ahead of himself.

“You fancy yourself a bit, don’t you,” Aaron jabbed, blue eyes lit up like a new year’s sparkler.

_Fancy you a bit more._

“Don’t have time,” Robert said. Aaron made a questioning frown, mouth pulling down in the corners. “Fending off all my admirers,” Robert explained.

Aaron breathed out a sighing laugh, a barely there sound, a barely there admission that Robert couldn’t get enough of. Serving pints all night and he was the one feeling intoxicated. He moved with that feeling, reckless and curious. Hopeful.

“How about you?”

“How about me what?” Aaron smirked, purposely being difficult. Robert smiled.

“Any admirers? I mean, let’s see, eh?” Robert counted off on his fingers. “Broody, good with your hands, set of baby blues. You must have no trouble with the ladies.”

Aaron ducked his chin, smiling into his chest. From their conversations so far, Robert had picked up confidence and surety from Aaron. He was solid. Very in his own skin. But this…the gesture was shy. Robert had embarrassed him, a light blush detectable before it was hidden under his beard. Aaron picked up his glass, hiding his mouth behind it.

“None at all,” Aaron said. He knocked back a swallow of his pint, and Robert watched his throat move. “Being gay, like,” Aaron said.

“Oh,” Robert finally said, after a lengthy pause, and with all the grace of someone who had only recently learned their alphabet.

“Problem?”

“No, course not I just – “ Robert drummed his fingers on the bar, making very, very careful eye contact, and wondering if Aaron could tell Robert’s knees had just gone a little weak, that the embers in his belly sparked and glowed. “Didn’t know.”

“After I got that ad out in the paper and everything,” Aaron said, dryly, bumping his fist softly on the bar top. “Print really is dead, eh.”

“Robert,” Charity emerged from the back, gesturing at the customers waiting up by the till.

“Sorry,” Robert said, not sure to who, but grateful for the moment to collect himself. To take a breath. To steal another glance at who might as well have been the only person in the room.

\--

Aaron waited for Robert to finish serving before killing his pint, only for the other man to roll right up and make immediate note of it.

“Another? On me?” Robert offered. Aaron dipped his chin, biting his lip. He was just about to accept when another voice cut across him.

“Well if there’s one going.” Cain picked up a coaster, flicking it against the surface of the bar. Aaron met his eyes and found Cain amused. Great. An amused Cain usually meant Aaron was about to get the shit ripped out of him to within an inch of his life.

“Suppose I could stretch to two,” Robert muttered.

“Don’t strain yourself,” Cain said, narrowing one eye at Robert, a slight pinch in the corner that confirmed what Aaron knew already. He was in for a bollocking. Robert handed the pints over and Aaron nodded, a smile so tiny the Hubble couldn’t find it. “A word?” Cain said, and Aaron had no choice but to follow him to a booth. Aaron avoided his eye, sipping his pint.

“Sommat to tell me?” Cain said, wiping foam off his top lip. Aaron shrugged. “Nowt. Really?”

“Like what?”

Cain shrugged back, mouth pulling at one corner. “Adam’s bike?”

Aaron faltered, pint hovering over his coaster a moment before he set it down. “Nearly done.”

“Nearly?”

Aaron nodded.

“Might be less nearly and more done if you weren’t giving Sugden freebies,” Cain observed.

“How did you – “ Aaron rolled his eyes. “Charity.”

“So?”

“It weren’t a freebie. I charged for parts, just not labour.”

“For an engine block replacement, are you barking?”

“No, Cain, I’m running the garage single handed.”

“Into the ground by the sound of it.” Cain stared at him hard as Aaron scowled. “I’ll ask again. What’s all that about?”

“All what?” Aaron shifted, pulling a leg up onto his chair, knee sticking up over the table line.

“Look, I don’t give a monkeys about your love life –“

“My – “

“- but I wouldn’t be doing my due diligence for Chas if I didn’t warn you that that little scrote is trouble.”

“Due diligence? Like she’s not dragging Debbie out every weekend for nights out and spending the whole time pointing out blokes who look like they have big – “

“Watch it,” Cain pinned him with a glare.

“- wallets.” Aaron rubbed his nose. “Wallets.”

“Aaron, I’m serious, right. I’ve known him years longer than you have. He’s. Trouble.”

“Forgot about that new spot you got in the church choir,” Aaron shot back. “It’s none of your business.”

“But there’s business there, is there?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.” Aaron rolled his eyes, then his shoulders. “I was doing him a favour, more for Vic really. And I liked working on that Audi. It’s an amazing car, I just don’t fancy saying as much to Robert. I don’t reckon it’s medically possible to get your head _further_ up your own arse.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t know who you’re trying to convince here, sunshine.”

“Probably you, as you’re the one peckin’ my head.”

Cain lifted both hands up, surrendering. “Fine. If you say so.”

“And you can tell my mum to keep her neb out n’all.”

“Eh, tell her that yourself. And don’t ask me to help you get fitted for your crutches.” Cain knocked back a long gulp of his beer, setting his glass down with a belch. “Look, I’ve got them Barton boys in now. We’ll be having a Saints meeting in the next few days. Job on after that. I need that bike for Adam and fast.”

“I didn’t realise it was urgent or owt, you should’ve said.”

“I’m saying now. Problem?”

Aaron shook his head, watched Cain drain the rest of his pint, and quickly compiled a mental list of what he had left to do. Cain reached over, slapped Aaron on the arm.

“G’lad. I’m off.” Cain rose, looked over to the bar. Aaron followed his eyeline to where Robert was giving someone their change, sleeves rolled to his elbows and charming smile in place. Cain meaningfully caught Aaron’s eye. “Remember what I said.”

Aaron watched Cain leave, the pub door closing soundlessly behind him, then dropped his head in his hands, rubbing along his eyebrow. He may as well head back to the garage. If Cain had a job on soon, Aaron needed to get the bike fitted up fast. He stood, shrugging into his coat, and a shadow fell over the table. Aaron looked up as Robert leaned over to collect the glasses, Aaron’s still a third full.

“This dead?” Robert asked. Aaron nodded. Robert was leaning quite close, they were practically chest to chest.

Aaron zipped his coat.

“Fill your boots,” he mumbled.

“Going already?” Robert eyed him. “I’d say you owe me for his, but I think I probably owe you more than two pints for the work you did. Aaron – “

“Look, I’m on my way out,” Aaron sidled out of the booth, skimming past Robert. His skin prickled under his clothes at the sound of Robert saying his name. They moved in tandem, like a revolving door, around each other in a circle. “I’ve a lot on.”

Robert checked his watch.

“It’s six, are you not done for the day?”

“I wish,” Aaron said.

“Another time then,” Robert said, and at Aaron’s questioning look, continued, “for the pint.”

“Right,” Aaron said. When he left the pub, the door swung shut behind him.

It wasn’t enough to stop him feeling the eyes at his back.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert tries to do some recon and gets more than he bargained for.

Aaron was all Robert could think about.

His face, the way he moved, the contradiction of kindness and spikiness coexisting. He’d been keeping his ear to the ground after what he’d taken to thinking of as _their pint_ , like it was something special, like he had done the brave thing and made a move. He hadn’t, every corner of the village draped in too much nostalgia, too much memory of how things were when he was growing up. Jack. The long shadows he cast. No, Robert hadn’t done the brave thing. And then Aaron had to go and make it a hundred times worse, casual heaven-and-earth-mover that he was.

_Being gay, like._

Robert had enough business experience behind him to know that the deal was never done until the thing was signed. But Aaron confirming the _possibility_ …felt like an invitation to the dotted line. He’d been doing some more investigating, ears pricking up in the café or from his place behind the bar, for even the slightest scrap of information. Brenda had dropped a casual remark about jailbirds in the village, Aaron’s name on the ever growing list.

Robert was surprised by that, but not really sure why. If there was one thing he knew from growing up in the village it was that a Dingle birth certificate was practically a prison punch card.

Still. He couldn’t imagine Aaron in a box. Didn’t especially want to.

“You’re asking a lot of questions about Aaron lately,” Vic said, eyebrows raised and tone neutral as she stirred some soup she was making. “Why the interest?”

 _Fuck._ There was something terrifyingly knowing in her eye – and he could feel that it was payback for all the little drips and drabs of disapproval he’d been sprinkling around the place over Adam. Vic knew Robert was bi, had done since she’d dropped in for a surprise visit before he started seeing Chrissie and found him _seeing_ a bloke in his flat. There wasn’t really any explaining away the fit fella in the towel, fresh from Robert’s shower and blithely looking for his goodbye kiss. So they’d had the conversation in as few words as Robert could manage. He hadn’t managed many more since.

And still, really, really would rather not. Not with framed pictures of his father looking down at them, not with the shambles of their mother’s memorial scarcely a week behind them. Not with Andy and Katie waiting for any chance – any chance at all – to stick the knife in.

“Not _interest,_ just…not exactly an open book, is he?” Robert covered. “I work in a biker bar, Vic, just trying to get the lay of the land here.” _The lay of something, alright,_ his mind hissed, treacherously. “Dangerous folk, just want to make sure I’m not about to get stabbed or owt.”

“One of them _dangerous folk_ you’re on about is my boyfriend!” Vic reminded him, pulling basil from a windowsill pot. “And Aaron’d never stab you,” Vic laughed lightly. Robert nodded. “He’d beat you to a pulp, maybe, but he’s not a knives fella.”

Robert froze.

“Robert,” Vic turned away from the cooker, looking at him with a deep amusement and way too much little-sister wisdom. “I’m kidding.” She shrugged. “Kind of, anyway.”

“Vic – “

“Aaron’s a good bloke. He’s got a temper on him, and he’s not friendly with people he doesn’t know, but – “ Robert waited, listened to how her voice softened. “But he’s a good person. Best of us really.”

Robert paused, watching her face.

“Am I missing something here?” he asked. “Is _Adam?_ ” Robert would never judge his sister, especially not with his track record, but he couldn’t deny the dawning feeling of disappointment in his stomach.

“Eh?” She turned to him with shining eyes but a confused set to her mouth.

“You sound half in love with him,” Robert said. _And I don’t blame you._ Vic looked uncomfortable and Robert sighed. He started, bitterly, to resign himself to it. It looked like he’d have to put Aaron in a box after all.

“Look, Rob, there’s some stuff I maybe should’ve told you,” Vic started. “About Adam.” _Oh. Oh?_ “But I knew you wouldn’t like it and I didn’t want you to kick off because, I really, really love him, right?”

“Right,” Robert said, cautiously, something that sounded a bit like the _Kill Bill_ alarm going off in his head.

“Well, you know how Adam’s dad passed away? John. Adam went a little… off the deep end after. His sister Holly had a relapse with drugs, Moira was stuck in bed half the time, the farm was as close to real trouble as you can get without being in it and…well. He lost his rag.”

“How exactly?” Robert stood up from his chair, taking a step closer, the sick feeling swelling up towards his chest. “Vic, if you’re telling me he hurt you then – “

“What? No, Robert, of course not! We weren’t even together then, just – just sit down okay, just let me get it all out.”

Robert sat. Nodded for her to go on.

Victoria grimaced. “A while before all that with John, Cain and Moira had an affair,” she said. Robert raised his eyebrows, knowing they were married now. “Moira and John worked through it, they were just about got back together when the accident happened. But Adam _hated_ Cain. Hated him, blamed him, couldn’t stick the fact that Cain was still walking about no bother when Adam’s life was falling apart.”

Robert didn’t like where this was going. He’d seen Cain and Adam together and though Cain was hard to get a read on at the best of times, they seemed settled. Friendly enough, backslaps over pints, not at each other’s throats like in the picture Vic was painting. And what had all this to do with Aaron?

“And?”

“Adam…set fire to the garage,” she said. Robert stilled. “With Cain inside.”

“What?”

“Robert you promised you wouldn’t freak out!”

“Eh, you’ll find I promised nowt, if you just rewind the tape a bit. What are you doing with a nutter like that?”

“He’s not a nutter!” Vic defended.

“He tried to kill someone!” Robert pointed out, he felt, reasonably.

“He was grieving,” Vic persisted, “You’re telling me that after Dad, you didn’t find yourself at the edge of it sometimes? You don’t think that if someone had pushed the right button at the wrong time, you couldn’t have done something off the wall.”

Robert paused. Her eyes were glistening, voice shaking. She wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t wrong at all. That place that Robert went to, after his mum, and then his dad. It was an entirely different place, a whole other emotional dimension. Anything could happen there. It seemed that for Adam, anything did.

He nodded, a tiny allowance. He traced the print of the tablecloth with his eyes, moving along the edge of one patterned square to the next, then the next.

“So what happened?”

“Aaron is Cain’s nephew. He talked to him, convinced him not to drop Adam in it.”

“That’s some set of skills,” Robert breathed out. “Persuading Cain Dingle into anything is probably about as easy as persuading a tiger into a wooly jumper.” Vic sniffed a little laugh.

“Yeah, well. Cain’s got his reputation, in’t he. Can’t have it getting around that he cares about someone that much.”

“And that’s what makes him the _best of us_ is it? He’s a Cain-wrangler?” Robert shook his head with a smile. It was a lot to process, and he had only just started to when Vic cleared her throat. “What?”

“That’s not all.”

“God, Vic,” Robert sighed, puffing his hair out of his eyes. “You know how to pick ‘em.” She faltered but he made a beckoning gesture with his hand. “Go on then. We’re in it now.”

“The police figured out it was arson, and Adam was cracking up. So – “ Vic looked down at her nails and picked a bit off the side. She spoke to the table. “Aaron took the blame. To protect Adam.”

“Took the blame how?”

Vic looked back up at him. He could tell it was hurting her, digging up all this old pain, but even underneath the roiling mess in his head as she assembled more and more details for him, he couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of appreciation. She wanted to be honest with him, even if it didn’t put her boyfriend in a good light. She wanted to share it with him. He had to love her for that.

Didn’t have to love her fucking boyfriend though.

“Prison,” she said, finally. “Two and half years.”

Robert froze. Saw that box again. Saw Aaron in it.

“Eh, am I missing something? I thought those two were best mates? How could Adam let Aaron take the fall for him like that?”

“Aaron didn’t give him much choice! He confessed on the sly and then by the time Adam found out it was too late.”

“Never too late to _not_ let someone serve _your_ time,” Robert said.

“Aaron wouldn’t have it. He wanted to protect Adam, and help his family. It would have finished the Bartons back then if Adam got locked up, and Aaron knew it. Not to mention that arson with intent gets life, but the minimum sentence without intent was two to three years. If it had got to court everyone would’ve heard about the affair and how much Adam hated Cain. He’d have got sent down for the maximum! But Aaron – he had a rep of a bit of a scally then. The kind who’d start a fire for a laugh. He thought that and him saying he never knew Cain was in there – he thought he could get off light. And he did! It worked.”

“Worked for Adam, alright.”

“Look, he’s no angel,” Vic said. “He’s made his mistakes, but I really love him Robert. If Cain can put it behind him… he started up a flipping gang with Adam while Aaron was inside. He trusts him, trusts that that mad grieving part of Adam wasn’t _him._ And like you said, Aaron’s still best mates with Adam. If those two can get past everything, you have to as well. End of.”

Vic stirred her pot decisively, ending the conversation while Robert’s mind whirred. From Adam – dating his sister – to Aaron – _the best of us_ – what a mess. What a mate.

What a man.

Robert thought of the gruff way Aaron offered his help. The way he swaggered around the village and bit his lip at a compliment. How Cain’s illegible face always seemed to resolve itself in respect and pride when he looked Aaron’s way – if only when Aaron wasn’t looking back.

The smell of Vic’s soup permeated the kitchen as he mulled, the silence stiff with new information. Doing the brave thing…might require a little bit of a run up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron has something nice for Adam, and something less nice for Ross.

It was uncanny, how people seemed to just…get the sense they should leave the pub. Surrounded by the Saints, Cain at the head of the table, Aaron watched as anyone unaffiliated with the gang finished their drinks, then faded out the door. Soon it was just them left, without a word being spoken. It made him think of fight or flight, wonder whether there was such a thing as a slow version of panic response.

Cain cleared his throat, and Aaron followed his eyeline to where Robert was cleaning glasses, Charity returning to the till after flipping the closed sign behind the last punter out. She caught Cain’s eye too, glancing at Robert.

“He can stay, Cain,” she said.

“Can he now?” Cain replied, quirking an eyebrow. They shared a moment of eye contact, then Charity rested her hand on Robert’s shoulder.

“He’s no grass,” she reaffirmed.

“Cheers,” Robert said, either oblivious or feigning obliviousness at the significance of earning Dingle trust. Aaron had noticed their rapport, and knew that Robert was living out the back of the pub, Charity floating in and out as she pleased. It was hard to say with Charity, what would’ve made her sure of him. She was fierce, but fickle. Maybe Robert just didn’t leave the toilet seat up.

“Wish he’d go,” Adam whispered to Aaron, leaning over. “Muppet’s been glaring a hole in the side of me head every time he sees me.”

“What you do to him?” Aaron asked, flicking eyes towards Robert, then back to Adam, obviously not too worried going by how he lazily scratched his chest.

“Nowt. He’s been in a right mood.” Adam leaned even closer. “Probably just needs to pull or sommat.”

Aaron _hmphed,_ not anywhere near approaching a laugh. He’d heard the stories, how wherever Robert Sugden went, knickers and good sense were soon sure to fly out the window.

“Maybe,” he murmured to Adam.

Cain grabbed their attention again, probably reassured knowing that if Robert _was_ a grass, he wouldn’t be for long, easily pasted up the main street. He turned to the Barton boys, or the two that were there, and asked the obvious question.

“Where’s the other idiot?”

Pete shrugged, wisely letting the insult roll off his back. Aaron never had much of an opinion on the eldest Barton, which automatically made him the least irritating. Ross was an unholy knob, and Finn well – Finn was a bit tragic. A night best forgotten.

The door swung open, hitting off the opposite wall and Ross strolled in.

“You’re late,” Cain said. Ross stopped, checked his non-existent watch and frowned.

“Soz, traffic.”

“That’s your excuse? Traffic,” Cain glared.

“Well, if you must know,” Ross’s smile turned lascivious, and he gestured his hands in the curvy, universal signifier of _woman_ , “I was – “

“Just shut up and sit down,” Cain said, “You’ve wasted enough time already. And we’ll be having words about your commitment.” Ross rolled his eyes, but Cain’s follow up stopped him short, “And the reduction in your cut.”

“Eh? You can’t – “

“Sorry?” Cain cupped a hand around his ear, leaning towards Ross. “I thought I just heard you tell me there was something I _can’t_ do. But that can’t be right, can it, given you like having all ten fingers.”

Ross scowled, slouching deeper into his seat, very much looking like he’d get by with just the _one_ finger, if push came to shove.

The meeting started up, some of the more tertiary members – outside of family – giving updates on different jobs. Cars nicked, police evaded, tips for making easy cash if someone had the bottle. Aaron perked up when talk turned to the plans for the next job. A rival gang was keeping a warehouse of stolen goods, a few nice motors up for grabs. Cain ran through the basic layout of the job, pointing at different members – including the Bartons – and designating roles.

Just before the end, he gave Aaron the nod he’d been waiting for, and Aaron grinned. Adam looked at him with a furrowing brow as Aaron stood up to leave, ruffling Adam’s hair as he passed and grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair.

Time for the pay off.

\--

It was like a war room meeting, but for greasier soldiers. That was Robert’s impression anyway. Cain led the charge, half of the group watching him with badly disguised awe, and the other half with a marked respect that came from actually knowing him, rather than just knowing _of_ him.

“Sit down, I’m not finished,” Cain said. Robert watched that Ross bloke roll his eyes, but he did as he was told, along with all the others. “There’s one more thing, should be here any minute now, so just keep your hair on.”

Cain had just pulled his phone out when a sound from outside ripped through the pub. A revving, thunderously loud with a growl to it that lifted the hair on Robert’s arms.

“Ah,” Cain said, smirking. “There he is, ‘bout time.”

“There who is?” Finn asked, Ross leaning forward expectantly, betraying his own bored expression.

“Aaron,” Cain said. Robert couldn’t quite cover his interest, saw Cain pick up the movement of him looking over at the sound of Aaron’s name. He couldn’t help it. Robert had been caught staring a few times, and he didn’t know what was more likely to get him murdered, Cain thinking Robert was a little too interested in their operation, or Cain twigging that Robert fancied the pants off of his nephew. “Adam,” Cain slapped the lad’s shoulder. “Your chariot awaits, yeah.”

“You what?”

“Just get outside you muppet, does it sound like he wants to wait about?”

The revving cranked even louder, and the group all stood and spilled out the pub door. Robert looked after them, then found Charity’s eyes.

“Could I…?” Robert asked. Charity crossed her arms, a wry smile on her face.

“Boys and their bikes, eh?” she said, though he wasn’t sure for whose benefit, the pub now being empty bar the two of them. “Go on then, it’s not like we’re inundated.”

Robert circled round the bar and pushed out to follow, stopping dead in the doorway.

Aaron sat astride a gleaming black motorcycle, the source of the primal revving. He had a quietly proud grin on his face, his arms flexing where he held the handlebars. Adam danced around him like a chimp as Cain looked on, reservedly impressed. The rest of the group were admiring the bike, muttering amongst themselves speculatively, some with a visible streak of jealousy.

Aaron swung his leg off the bike, letting Adam onto the seat.

“Mate!” Adam gawped, clenching his hands around the grips, revving it himself. “Where’d you – no!” Adam leaned down, inspecting some finer aspect of the machinery Robert wasn’t privy too – he didn’t know much about motorcycles himself – but going off Adam’s face, whatever Aaron had done was a big deal. “Tell me you’ve not modded one of those old banger bikes into _this_?”

Aaron bit his lip, and Robert smiled. Aaron was glowing, swaying his weight from foot to foot as Adam _oohed_ and _ahhed_ over various parts of the bike. There were more restrained toddlers on Christmas day. Robert was still struggling to consolidate everything Vic had told him about Adam with the man himself. For one, he was a numpty. For the other…he seemed alright. A good heart, a bit sensitive even. Just…stupid with it.

Watching Aaron, his pride as Adam let the joy shine off him, it was easy to believe that Aaron would do time for him. Aaron looked like he’d do anything for Adam, and Robert wondered how many people were in that same position. How wide or narrow was the circle of lucky fools who had Aaron Dingle’s loyalty?

Robert’s wonderings – and staring – were interrupted by a break in the admiring sounds. Everyone went quiet at the slow clapping coming from among them. Robert quickly zeroed in on Ross, the prat applauding with his chin so high he’d legally have to call it stargazing.

“So that’s what he’s been doing with you,” Ross called over to Aaron, who barely reacted, facing Ross with the bleak look of a man who’s just realised he forgot to take the bins out. “Debbie’s out of the garage and he’s got you skivvying.”

“It’s called having a job, Ross, I know you never got the hang of it, but it works for a lot of people.”

“My car could do with a service,” Ross said, pulling a set of keys from his pocket and jangling them at Aaron. “And a wax, come to think of it.”

“Go on then,” Aaron started towards him and Robert watched as tension bubbled in the group. “Don’t know about the wax, but I’ll cut your brakes no charge.”

Ross tilted his head, putting on a pout. God what a dickhead.

“And the service?” Ross leaned forward, Aaron squaring up. “Or are you too busy _servicing_ in other ways, eh?”

Robert didn’t like that tone. And it didn’t look like Aaron did either.

Ross reeled back from the punch Aaron landed on his smug face, but came back quickly, dealing one into Aaron’s ribs. Back and forth, blows were traded fierce and rapid until the rest piled in and pulled them apart, Pete getting a good hold on Ross, and Cain already having words with Aaron.

“As if this pillock is worth it, just keep your flipping head.”

“Listen to Uncle Cain, Aaron,” Ross said, pulling against Pete. “Wouldn’t want you back inside now, would we?”

Ross spoke with enough venom that Robert nearly missed it, the way Aaron flinched, body still straining forward for the fight. Cain pushed him back a step so his back collided with Adam’s front, and turned on Ross, whose chest was heaving, the outline of his shiner-to-be only just visible from Robert’s place in the doorway.

“Poor little martyr, eh? Golden boy no matter what you do – “

“Pack it in,” Cain slapped Ross on the back of the head, and not playfully. The gesture was infantilising, humiliating. Like Cain was scolding a toddler. “That’s strike two.”

“Eh? What was strike one?”

“I met you. I was thinking of filing a damages claim, but this’ll have to do me. Now bog off and don’t come back until I text you for that job – “

“Cain,” Aaron spat blood onto the ground, Adam holding onto his shoulder. “You can’t be serious – “

“Oi,” Cain cut him off. “You pack it in n’all.”

“Sod this,” Aaron said, then turned and clapped Adam on the chest. “Enjoy the bike, mate.”

“Cheers, lad, but where are you – “

“Not here. How’s that sound.” Aaron shoved his hands in his pockets and made off down the road, Cain calling after him.

“Great,” Cain said, spinning on Ross and fisting a hand in his shirt. “Now look.”

“Now look what?” Ross pushed away. “Poor little Aaron with half the world chasing after him to stick a plaster on – “

Cain shoved him back into Pete, pointing at the eldest brother, who looked weary to say the least.

“Get him in line, right, or the three of you are out.” Cain addressed Ross again, at a growl. “I could replace you with a plank of wood with a gun stapled to it, you get me? Aaron, not so much.”

“Really, I thought you replaced him pretty well when he was inside.” Ross called over to Adam, shit stirring grin still plastered on - though he was probably only that brave now that Pete had dragged him out of punching distance of Cain – “Eh Adam? You and Cain against the world innit? Nice little set up, business and the family home. What’s he now, Dad number three? You’re running through them mate – “

Adam made a lunge but Cain caught him quickly.

“Don’t,” was all Cain said. Adam backed off. “Get him out of here,” Cain said to Finn. Between the two of them, Pete and Finn managed to bundle Ross off, and Cain dismissed the rest, having quiet words with Adam. Robert looked off down the road where Aaron had trudged off, leaning into the light wind. There was no sign of him.

But Robert could take a guess.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert follows Aaron.

The pavilion was deserted, and Aaron hopped up the steps all in one go, landing with a satisfying _thud_ on the porch. Poorly insulated, the building was a much less popular hang out during the winter months, the sparse and rigid grass not much of a draw either. Aaron wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into anyone. Just as well – raw and throbbing with anger as he was. He paced the length of the veranda, each step ripping a groaning creak from the wood. His chest felt like it had contracted, now only the size of a fist, and pulling in shallow breaths was doing nothing to quell the aggression. He whipped his head around, looking for something he could hit without breaking – either it or his hand – and coming up empty, slammed his hands down on the porch beam.

He gripped it, the sting fading into his palms slowly, like a bleed he couldn’t see. His eyes prickled.

Fuck Ross.

Aaron had come a long way from the kid so desperate to be anyone but himself that a locked garage door and a thrumming engine felt like an answer. A long, long way. He wasn’t ashamed to like men, not any more, but there was something about the way Ross talked about it, something Aaron couldn’t make heads or tails of when Finn was one of the only things Ross seemed to genuinely care about.

Aaron looked down at his hands, his right knuckles already coming up in a bruise. He skimmed his hand to the side a bit, unveiled his old graffiti. _Aaron woz ere._ He forced a deep breath into his belly and traced lines of it. Aaron was _still_ here. After everything, he was still here.

Someone tapped his shoulder.

Aaron whirled, grabbing fabric and shoving until they hit the wall of the pavilion building. Aaron could see his own snarling face in the window’s glass and recoiled from the sight, landing on –

“We hafta stop meeting like this,” Robert said, voice light but face pinched and wincing. Aaron loosened his grip, bunched fists resting on Robert’s chest instead of pushing on it.

“What are you even doing here?” he ground out. Robert shrugged as best he could, pinned as he was. “Oh, so you just fancied a winter walk did you?”

“No,” Robert said, carefully. Aaron was breathing hard again, made himself slow down, put his teeth away. “Came looking for you, didn’t I.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but Aaron couldn’t process it, not in the few seconds Robert gave him before speaking again. “Saw it kick off in front of the pub. You alright?”

Aaron paused. He looked at his fists and slowly uncurled his fingers from Robert’s jacket, making to smooth it out before stopping himself and backing away. He levered himself to sit up on the porch beam he had just smacked his palms down onto and held himself steady with his arms at his sides.

“It’s just Ross,” Aaron said, evenly. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I gathered,” Robert said, nodding down at Aaron’s hand. He stayed opposite Aaron, leaning against the building. “People say I have a punchable face but seeing that git get one was…deeply satisfying.”

Aaron barked a laugh, felt the tension in his body leak into the wooden balustrade. He kicked one of his legs back into it, _thunking_ his heel against one of the short poles. “Glad someone got sommat out of it I suppose. You barely even know Ross though.”

“Looks like you know him more than enough for the two of us,” Robert said. “What’s his problem with you, anyway?”

Aaron pulled his shoulders up to his ears and blew out a long sigh. “Could be anythin’. Could be that he had a thing for our Debbie and doesn’t like that it’s my mug in the garage. That git don’t need a reason.”

Robert raised an eyebrow.

“And the rest? What did you do?” Robert asked. Aaron considered telling him to fuck off, or jumping down off the porch beam and fucking off himself. But Robert was watching him with an open curiosity, like he understood, or wanted to understand. While from someone else that might have gotten Aaron’s back right up, from Robert it felt different. Like the question was just a question, not a net to get snared in. Aaron dropped his head, mumbling into his chest.

“His brother,” he admitted.

“You what?” Aaron looked up at the sound of Robert’s surprise. “Pete’s into blokes?”

Aaron shook his head. “Not Pete.”

“Not…” Robert looked bewildered, standing upright and taking a step from away from the wall. “Not Finn?”

Aaron rubbed his beard with a full palm and a heap of regret. “Look, it was my first night out of prison, and I was three quarters of the way to annihilated – “

“But _Finn_ ,” Robert shook his head.

“What of it?” Aaron said, the challenge coming back into his voice. He’d already been made to feel _that big_ by another bloke today, he wasn’t about to let Robert do the same.

“You’re just,” Robert looked at Aaron, really looked at him. His gaze took in all of Aaron’s body where he perched on the porch rail, and ignited a blush along Aaron’s cheeks, put his brand of heat under Aaron’s collar. “You’re a million miles out of his league.”

“Eh?” Aaron’s mouth moved ahead while his brain still lagged behind. He gripped onto the porch beam harder, afraid that another comment like that would send him toppling over. “Pull the other one.”

“I’m serious,” Robert said. Aaron bit his lip, tried to bring a little bit of reality back to this conversation, the press of his teeth into sensitive skin grounding. “Oh come on, you have to know that that’s true.”

“What, that I’m such a catch?” Aaron huffed, and Robert just stood there, widening his eyes at him. “Come off it. You don’t know anything about me. Ex-con for a start – “

“Except Vic told me,” Robert interrupted, and it was Aaron’s turn to widen his eyes.

“She told you what?”

“About what you did for Adam.”

Quiet stretched between them and grew taut, slackening when Robert took a few steps closer again, stopping directly in front of Aaron so Aaron had to tilt his chin up to look at Robert’s face, to gauge exactly how much he knew and what he was planning to do with it.

“You – you can’t tell anyone.”

“Obviously,” Robert murmured. “Didn’t you hear Charity? I’m no grass.”

“Robert,” Aaron said, “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” Robert said. “I’m just – I know more about you than you think.”

“And not as much as you think you do,” Aaron pointed out, as much for himself as for Robert. Jackson, what happened at the garage, the cutting – Aaron didn’t come with a warning label so much as a warning instructional pamphlet. And normally, it wouldn’t be an issue. One night stands, fucking – Aaron knew where he was comfortable with them. Not explaining his scars because the other bloke didn’t care, not asking about theirs because he didn’t care either. Not for one night. Not for something that could be handwaved away in a few crude terms. In, out, come, go.

But relationships, sex? Different story. He hadn’t been with anyone seriously since Jackson, the closest he had come to it being Ed before Aaron got himself banged up, and even that had had a short shelf life at the time. Aaron didn’t know how to do that anymore. He could make his body vulnerable for the pleasurable pay off, but doing that along with the other stuff? Opening his ribcage like a clamshell and waiting for anyone with a pricy eye and a quick hand to do him over? Letting someone inside, _really_ inside?

And that was just the problem, wasn’t it? Aaron didn’t want a one night stand with Robert, that would be too easy, too simple.

He wanted _Robert._ He _liked_ him.

“Why are you here, Robert?” Aaron asked, frustration tightening his throat.

“I told you, I – “

“Came looking for me, yeah, I know. But _why_?” Aaron pushed. A muscle in Robert’s jaw ticked, eyes downcast before they roved Aaron’s face again, scanning, memorising. Looking, always looking like there was something worth looking at.

“You know why,” Robert said, and then, in a move that surprised Aaron, he leant over to frame Aaron’s hands on the porch rail with his own. They were close now, close enough for Aaron to smell Robert’s aftershave, to see the scattering of faint brown freckles on the skin of his face. Note the fan of his lashes, watch his mouth part in the barest sliver.

Aaron swallowed, looked back into Robert’s eyes. No escaping.

“Do I?”

Robert looked at Aaron’s mouth. Aaron didn’t move, chin still tilted slightly up and Robert’s slightly down, like they were two halves of something made to fit that just hadn’t quite connected.

And then, inevitable as gravity, Robert’s mouth fell onto Aaron’s.

_Connect._

Aaron froze up for a moment, then fluttered his eyes closed. He leaned up further, craning his neck to take Robert’s bottom lip into his mouth, lifting his hands from the porch rail to grasp onto Robert’s jacket at the shoulders, pulling him in tighter. Robert’s hands, the hands Aaron had been watching since they first put a pint down in front of him, cupped Aaron’s face, Robert’s thumbs stroking along his beard as they kissed. Aaron breathed, long and heavy out of his nose, opened his mouth wider, invited Robert in.

Robert let out a quiet moan that Aaron would be replaying on a loop in the back of his mind for the rest of time, a sound of defeat and surrender, not of a man who kissed him first. Robert’s tongue slipped into Aaron’s mouth and he flexed his fingers in Robert’s jacket.

He was lost. Lost to Robert’s hot, soft mouth, his desperate noises, the feel of him under Aaron’s hands. He hooked a leg behind Robert’s and reeled him in closer so Robert was standing between Aaron’s knees, kissing him breathless, senseless, thoughtless.

It felt amazing. Like a kiss that came with its own music. Like something starting.

And then it stopped.

Aaron flailed to catch himself on the porch rail, Robert’s steadying hands suddenly gone. Aaron thumped his feet back onto the boards to save himself a fall, still dazed.

“Robert?”

“I’m sorry,” Robert said, backing away. “I have to…”

“Have to?”

“Go. I have to go.”

“You what?” Robert turned and strode off the veranda, cutting a diagonal path across the green. Aaron called his name, twice, to no reaction. He wasn’t about to chase him, Aaron had more pride than that. Robert couldn’t just – couldn’t just kiss him like that and then book it out of there and have Aaron trail along after him.

Aaron straightened his hoodie and caught his own eye in the window glass.

He didn’t look away this time. Raised a hand to his kiss-swollen mouth.

He was still here.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert seeks some advice, gets a little extra for his bother, and chases a challenge.

Robert had gone on a long drive to clear his head. Then, pulling over, took a long walk with the same hopes. Another long drive home to the pub, a long bath – abruptly ended by Charity threatening to kick the door in – and a long time pretending he was anywhere close to falling asleep.

Not to mention the short, guilty wank.

None of which did anything to get his mind off Aaron, or the wide, shocked set of his eyes when Robert ran away. There wasn’t any other way to put what he did, was there? He ran away. The sudden clench of reality, standing in the arms of another man in a place where Robert and every other village teen used to sneak off to down nicked wine coolers and pretend like they knew anything about anything. One memory linked to another and between one delicious, blood-fizzing kiss and the next, Robert was imagining the disappointed furrow of his dad’s brow, the snap of his belt. It was different, away from home, where a body was just a body and Robert was just himself, it didn’t matter. But back in the village…it mattered. This was the place where all of Robert’s failures came home to roost, the place where dead men walked and judged and _saw._

Who said there was no such thing as ghosts?

\--

“Vic!” Robert hammered on her front door, the cold light of day and several villagers passing by staring down at him. “Victoria! I know it’s your day off, so just – “

The door swung open, Vic huddled up in a dressing gown, hair scraped up in a bun, and scowling for England.

“Robert – “

“Finally,” he said, charging past her into the house. She followed in his wake, and he went straight to the kettle. “Cuppa?”

Vic blinked at him. “Rob, you can’t just barge in and – “

“You,” Robert said, catching sight of Adam on the couch. Robert pointed at him through the window partition between the kitchen and living room. “Out.”

“Oi,” Vic said, slapping Robert’s arm as he switched the kettle on. “You _really can’t_ kick my boyfriend out of _my_ house.”

“I need to talk to you Vic.”

Adam wandered into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

“Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of Adam,” Vic said primly. Adam looked over at her with one of the worst cases of goo-goo eyes Robert had ever seen. Bloody terminal.

“Except it’s not about you and Adam, or me and Adam, or me and you, it’s about – “ Robert swallowed. “Please Vic, it’s important. And _private._ ” He leaned on the word, watched as her face softened. Adam walked over and hooked her neck with his elbow, dropping a kiss on top of her head.

“S’alright babe, you deal with this. Promised mum I’d put in a shift up at the farm today anyway.”

“You sure?”

“He’s sure,” Robert said. Victoria glared at him again, but Adam started to get his stuff together and eventually shuffled out, leaving Vic, Robert, and two mugs of tea.

Vic shepherded him into the living room, curling up on either side of the couch.

“Right,” she said, once she’d settled. “What’s the big emergency that has you being rude to my boyfriend and wrecking my day off, eh?”

Robert considered neutral pronouns. Approaching from the side, talking about it but not talking about it. And then he remembered the way Vic had looked when she filled him in on Adam’s history. Afraid of what he might think, determined to tell the truth regardless. He took that energy for his own, just a pinch of it, enough to soothe the itching discomfort of having someone he loved accept a part of him he hadn’t totally accepted himself.

“I kissed Aaron,” Robert said, like taking off a plaster, if the plaster was a decade or so of repression. Victoria’s clock was the only noise for a few, extremely audible seconds, then she shuffled on her cushion.

“Okay,” she said, with the air of someone trying very hard not to startle a cat. She touched Robert’s knee, her fingertips tea-mug warm. “Tell me everything. From the start.”

\--

“I knew it,” Vic said. The mugs lay empty and Robert was half way to exhausted, but he’d done it. He’d had a grownup discussion about his romantic feelings for a man. In his sister’s house, where Sugden expectation lined every shelf, window ledge, and mantelpiece.

“You what?”

“I knew you liked him,” Vic said, smugly. Robert sighed.

“Great, now that we’ve satisfied your weird need to claim gaydar or whatever – “

“Rob,” Vic’s face fell. “I didn’t mean –

“I said whatever, Vic, okay. Just – Aaron’s your friend, you’ve known him ages. What do I do?”

Vic faltered, a bit chastened. “Well…depends what you want, doesn’t it?”

“What I want?”

“Do you want to like…pursue something with him? Or do you want to just be mates and forget it ever happened?”

Robert thought about it. Being mates with Aaron Dingle seemed like a heady proposition. Robert had seen what Aaron did for a mate, how once the seal was broken on his trust there was no going back. But he had felt Aaron’s lips against his own, Aaron’s hands curled against his chest, his need somehow a loud and tangible thing even without a voice.

“You really like him,” Vic prodded, gently. “Don’t you?” Robert looked at her. Freckled - like him, wide eyed and earnest – not like him at all. Kind. Like he sometimes wished he could afford to be.

He nodded, slowly, then firm.

“You need to talk to him, Rob,” Vic said. “Look, there’s no one in the village who’d understand complicated sexuality stuff more than Aaron. He, well – it’s not my place, yeah, but he had his own thing about it, he wasn’t always as settled being gay like he is now. All you need to do, all he’d want from you, is for you to be honest with him.”

“You reckon?” Robert said, surprised. He had assumed Aaron had come swaggering out of the closet with a dare between his teeth and a list of hearts to break.

“I do,” Vic nodded decisively.

“Th – “ Robert was interrupted by a knock at the front door, and Vic sat upright.

“Adam probably forgot sommat,” she said, clambering off the couch.

“Like his head,” Robert muttered.

“I heard that!” Vic called back from the hallway. Robert grinned. His chest felt lighter, shoulders less bowed than they had when he arrived.

 _Is it possible to speak too soon without saying a word?_ He asked himself, when Andy trundled through the door, Vic following with her best _behave_ face on.

“Y’alright.”

“Been worse,” Robert said. Andy was the second to last person he wanted to see right now, but there was something placid in his expression that Robert forced himself to pay attention to. He relaxed. Neither of them had to be looking for a fight.

“Brew?” Vic asked Andy.

“Ta,” he replied, and Vic busied herself about the kitchen. Andy perched on the arm of one of the armchairs, and Robert watched him, palms spread wide over his knees, still with his coat on. The quiet was unbearable.

Robert blew out a sigh through puffed cheeks. “Well, riveting as always – “

“I talked to Katie,” Andy cut in. “’Bout the memorial, like.”

“Seems a bit pointless, given she was there,” Robert said.

“I meant what she said. After you did your bit for mum, it was bang out of order, and we talked about it. She’s sorry.”

“Big of her to say,” Robert said, then looked around the room in a sarcastic pantomime. “Oh wait.”

“You said some stuff you shouldn’t have either.”

“Didn’t say she doesn’t love her dead family though, did I? That was all wifey.” Robert bounced his knee. Sometimes he wondered if he might be just…allergic to Andy. The way his skin itched, his blood heated, everything going brittle inside. It didn’t always feel like this. _Will it always feel like this?_

“I know. Like I said,” Andy looked at Robert, his clear eyes serious. “Bang out of order. But we want to move on. Start over. You’re back now, and I want us to be…civil, at least.” Andy looked over his shoulder to where Vic was clearly earwigging. “For Vic, if nowt else.”

“Civil,” Robert nodded. Vic looked over her shoulder at them. “I can do civil.”

“Great.”

“Great.”

Andy glanced around the room, at a loss, and Vic came through, handing him his tea.

“So, just visiting or?” Andy asked. Vic flopped down on the couch again.

“Robert wanted some advice,” Vic said.

“Vic,” Robert felt something skip in his chest, his body flushing cold.

“Advice?” Andy asked, blowing on his tea.

“Matters of the heart,” Vic said, overblown posh accent and clasped hands in full effect while Robert tried to bring himself back from the edge of a coronary through sheer force of will.

“Vic!” he snapped. Vic looked at him, forehead pinched and eyes concerned. “Shut your gob, eh?”

“Rob,” she said, “he’s our brother – “

“And? It’s _my_ life, _my_ business.” Robert clawed a hand into his own thigh, trying not to look like he was breathing as hard as he was. Vic’s eyes zeroed in on the movement though, and she glanced guiltily at Andy and back again. “I’ve got to go, anyway.” Robert stood up, grabbing his coat where he’d flung it across the back of the couch, shoving his arms in the sleeves roughly.

“Look, Robert, as you say, it’s your business,” Andy said, clearing his throat. “But if you’ve met someone, good for you, eh?”

Robert froze, his second arm half in his sleeve. He slowed, shrugged into his coat at a molasses-speed. Andy seemed to take his silence as a positive.

“It’s good to see you, y’know. Getting back on the horse or whatever.”

“What?”

“After Chrissie and the split. I mean, it was serious, you were gonna marry her. It must have been hard so…it’s nice that you’ve found someone again.”

Robert eyed Andy. His hands loosely cradling his cup, eyebrows tilted up in something like a plea. An olive branch. “You really mean that,” Robert said, figuring it out as he formed the words. “Don’t you.”

“Course I do,” Andy frowned. He set his mug down, rubbing his hands together, chafed from farm gloves and harsh weather. “You’re my brother. I want you to find someone who makes you happy.”

“Right,” Robert said, a long pause following. Vic uncoiled, looking up at him.

“Why don’t you stay, Robert?”

Robert patted himself down. Phone, keys, wallet, hope. “No, no, I’ve gotta go.”

Robert strode into the hallway, waving back at his siblings, then let himself out.

_There’s somewhere I’ve got to be._

\--

Robert walked to the garage with confidence. If there was one thing he could do, it was charm his way into another chance. With that in one pocket, and the way Aaron had kissed him back in the other, Robert stopped in the garage forecourt. He craned his neck to see in, but couldn’t spot anyone, guessing Aaron was tucked into the tiny office with paperwork. Robert glanced around, then picked his way over to a parked up car. He smoothed his jacket in the window reflection, bending his knees for a proper look so he could tidy his hair.

“If it’s me that’s in aid of I wouldn’t bother mate,” Aaron said, walking up behind him with a coffee cup from the café in hand and not an inch given on his face. Robert jumped.

“Aaron,” he said, “wait, I wanted a word.”

“Have two,” Aaron said, without looking back. God he looked so good strutting in his heavy boots and overalls, his hood peeping out from over the top of his collar. “Piss off.”

“Aaron,” Robert followed him, and because he never learned, he reached out and pinched the fabric at Aaron’s elbow. “Just let me explain.”

Aaron stopped. He swivelled, the gravel rolling and crunching under his boots, and looked down at Robert’s hand. Robert released him and Aaron stayed put. Robert pressed on, encouraged by the lack of punches thrown.

“I shouldn’t have backed off,” Robert said. “I should’ve stayed and just kept kissing you, like I wanted, but…”

Aaron didn’t make it easy for him, letting him dangle. Even in such a state Robert couldn’t help but find it attractive. The forced neutrality of his stare, something which could have come off as judgemental, or even bored, was tantalising when Robert saw it for what it was. Aaron’s time, his listening ear. Aaron waiting for him to make it worth it.

“I panicked. Don’t pretend you’ve not heard about me, right? Robert Sugden, king of bad decisions? I’d give you a business card, but you’re well acquainted now anyway.”

“Am I?” Aaron said, and Robert leapt on it.

“You had your tongue in my mouth, I reckon that’s pretty well acquainted.” Robert swayed a few steps closer, watched as Aaron very definitely didn’t move back. “Could always be more so, though,” Robert tilted a smile at him.

Aaron looked unimpressed. “Thought you were explaining sommat,” he said, flat and low.

“Sorry, got – distracted,” Robert said, glancing down at Aaron’s mouth. Aaron rolled his head back with a sigh, then shook it, chin to his chest and tiny smile on. Robert filed that away, that even Aaron Dingle gave way under a relentless charm-offensive, but then remembered his other tidbit of insider knowledge. _Be honest._ “Look, I’m not. I’m not _out_ the way you’re out.” Aaron looked up.

“Vic knows,” Robert said, glancing off to the side. “And _I_ know, I’m just not great at talking about it, and if I’m with you – “ Robert caught the slight widening in Aaron’s eyes, realised himself what he’d just said, and in lieu of a better escape plan, barrelled forward with it. “If I’m with you I’m gonna have to talk about it. With Andy, with Diane. With strangers, I don’t – “

“I get it,” Aaron said. Simply. Perfectly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Aaron nodded, shoving his hands in his overall pockets. He kicked a stone on the ground. Looked over to the garage with a gaze that went somewhere much further, then back to Robert. “Was there sommat else?”

Robert stepped closer again, purposely didn’t check over his shoulder for onlookers. “Give me another go?”

“At what, exactly?” Aaron said, chin tilting up. He was the ultimate ventriloquist, his mouth saying _no don’t touch_ and _what are you waiting for_ at the same time. Robert reached forward, sliding a hand onto Aaron’s waist, curling around his back and tugging him gently closer. He leaned in, and when their lips were close enough to brush, Aaron spoke.

“Steady on,” he said, slipping out of Robert’s hands like the dream he was, and walking back up to the garage. “Don’t remember saying yeah.”

Robert stood stock still for a moment, holding in something horrifyingly close to a whine.

“But – “

“But what, Robert?” Aaron said. “You kissed me, then legged it so hard you nearly pitched me into a hedge. Just because I get _why_ don’t mean I have to just – “

“Let me make it up to you,” Robert said. “Just tell me how.”

Aaron surveyed him with a neutral expression, taking his time with it. He watched Robert keenly, and Robert didn’t know how to play to whatever he was looking for, focusing all his energy instead on not fidgeting or shuffling under Aaron’s consideration. Aaron arched his eyebrow and Robert wondered how he’d be able to explain his trousers disintegrating in the middle of November.

Aaron reached in behind the garage door and pulled something out.

“Alright then,” he said, turning back to Robert. “Catch.”

With a sharp chest pass, Aaron lobbed something a little bigger and a lot harder than a basketball Robert’s way. Robert caught it, flipped it over in his hands.

A motorcycle helmet.

He looked at Aaron, pulling his own helmet from behind the door, conjuring a grin from thin air. Aaron drummed his fingers on it, held it like a challenge. His chin was tilted up and expectant, but his eyes were coy and sparkling. He broke Robert’s brain, sent his heart into overdrive. Not to mention his -

“You up for it?” Aaron asked.

“Yeah,” Robert said, glancing down, furtively. “Reckon so.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron takes Robert for a ride, and some things get decided. Cain has an offer.

Aaron didn’t really think much further ahead than this. Robert, plastered to his back, hands on Aaron’s hips, squeezing any time they took a bend or hit a bump. Aaron figured this would be a good way to clear his head, and maybe even to clear Robert’s, but the points of contact between them were so electric, it seemed to have not cleared his head so much as short circuited it. Aaron smiled into his helmet, thinking of the moments before they drove off the forecourt.

“Hold on,” Aaron had said, looking over his shoulder as Robert tried to appear all cool and crisp confidence. He’d clearly never been on a motorbike before, only confirmed in his answer of –

“To what?”

Aaron had reached behind him, guided Robert’s hands onto him – a tentative posture, hands on hips, smirked at the small drop of Robert’s mouth. Aaron would have to be careful. A bloke could easily get addicted to surprising Robert Sugden.

Trees whipped past them, like they were the still thing and the world was set to fast forward. It felt kind of like their kiss in that way. A singular point in chaos. A singular point _of_ chaos. The Yorkshire countryside was laid out around them, a patchwork blanket of green, brown, grey squares. A hairpin turn crowned in Aaron’s vision and he slowed, just a bit, to take it. As they approached, Robert’s hands slid from Aaron’s hips, smoothing onto his stomach to wrap around his waist. Robert’s arms were warm and solid, slipped between Aaron’s tshirt and his hoodie. Aaron’s heart thumped at the picture of them both in his mind’s eye. An embrace at eighty kilometres an hour.

He took the turn.

Robert’s arms stayed wrapped around him.

Aaron blushed, the colour in his cheeks lasting all the longer for being insulated inside his helmet, and he waited for it to fade before eventually pulling off down an unmarked dirt road. They pulled to a stop at the beginning of a walking trail, surrounded by trees and the wet comforting sounds of undergrowth. There was a bench, and a bin, and an instructional sign for people with dogs, but Aaron knew that if you walked just past those things, it was like walking into another world. A safe place.

Aaron cut off the engine, planting his feet on the ground. He cleared his throat. Tapped at the arms still linked around his waist.

“Robert?” Aaron said, “Thought we could do for a break?”

Robert unwound his arms and clambered off the back of the bike. Aaron nudged the kickstand out and took off his helmet, following suit. Robert took his helmet off too and threw his hands out at his sides.

“So, did I pass?”

“Eh?”

“The test. Did I pass?” Aaron surveyed him. There was a quiver in his legs and hands, his mouth bitten pink. His eyes were bright and glossy in his flushed face. He looked like something people fell over themselves to paint, like nothing Aaron had seen before. Like everything he could want.

Aaron had spent all night after Robert left him at the pavilion telling himself he was better off rid, that he’d keep his distance, wouldn’t get sucked in by charm or flattery if Robert came back angling for more. But faced with the reality of him, the long lines, broad shoulders, the mouth that was shaped too perfectly for anything but trouble? What was the point?

Aaron worked the garage and housesat for Debbie. He took care of the gang motors for Cain. He stayed out of trouble for his mum, did time for Adam, did the worst thing he ever did for Jackson. He wanted Robert. Just for him. He just _wanted._

“It weren’t a test,” Aaron said, walking away from the bike and into the trees. He heard Robert follow. “I don’t do tests. Or play games.”

“Right,” Robert said, voice sharper, defensive. “That a dig?”

“What?”

Robert rolled his eyes. “You’ve heard – “

“- the stories, yeah you keep saying.” Aaron rolled his eyes right back. “I’ve heard the stories about me n’all, and trust me mate, they’re scarier than yours and more than half of them are true.” Aaron took a few determined steps closer, Robert still standing stiffly. “Why don’t you tell me a story, eh?”

“What d’you mean?” Robert blinked.

“Tell me this story. How does Brenda describe us when the gossip starts? Aaron fixed his car and now they’re mates? They kissed once but it never went anywhere?” Aaron let his gaze drop to Robert’s mouth, then made himself drag it back to his eyes. “They fucked?”

Internally, Aaron preened at the shaky breath Robert let out, at the way his pupils enlarged, how the green there grew dark and deep like the scene around them. He wasn’t the only one who felt it, whatever was happening between them.

“Brenda should keep her neb out,” Robert said, lowly.

“But she won’t,” Aaron said, pointedly. “No one in the village will, they’ll all have sommat to say about it, either way. That’s why I’m asking you. I’ve got nowt to hide, haven’t since I was eighteen. And I want to keep it that way.”

Robert nodded. Aaron backed off, gave Robert some space to think. He stripped a large leaf off a tree and set about tearing into segments. He followed the veins and lines, letting each torn piece fall to his feet, scattering his boots in green. Robert watched him do it. Aaron focused on his own hands. He’d said his piece.

“I like both,” Robert broke the silence, gently. Like tapping a spoon against the top of a boiled egg, a careful break. Delicate. “I like both, and I like…I like you.”

Aaron bit his lip. Didn’t interrupt.

“Haven’t stopped thinking about you since I first saw you.” Robert rubbed his face like he was trying to wake up. “And it’s only gotten worse.”

“Worse?” Aaron said, flatly, shushing the fluttering elation, staunchly not telling Robert _same_. “Cheers for that.”

Robert made a frustrated sound, his jaw ticking, making something in Aaron’s stomach plummet and burn.

“When I think about Chrissie,” Robert said, then clarified, “the ex-fiance, I mean. When I think about how I loved her, it was in these _parts._ The biggest part was her. Just herself, y’know, she was beautiful and clever, and even though her son was an absolute lost cause nutter she loved him with everything she had. I respected her, even though I didn’t treat her like it.” Robert paused and Aaron glanced over, picturing this imaginary woman. In his head, the son was on a leash, though Aaron didn’t think Robert would appreciate the joke. “But the other parts made me love her too. The job, the house, the – the life I was making with her was an ad for success, she was everything I was supposed to want.”

Robert pinned Aaron with his gaze, came closer. Set against the green, he prowled. Unbidden, Aaron licked his lips, but still wasn’t prepared for Robert grabbing his face. Aaron stumbled back into the tree whose leaf he’d mangled, his spine pressed into the ridged bark. His nose was filled with fresh air and damp leaves and Robert’s cologne. Robert surrounded him, swamped him, was all he could see, hear, _feel._ The way he loomed over Aaron in the copse of trees, Aaron could be easily mistaken for prey, Robert for predator.

Aaron gripped Robert’s coat and swung them around, driving Robert into the tree in his place. Aaron scanned his face.

“And?” he asked. _What does that mean? Tell me the ending._

Robert thumbed Aaron’s beard, eyes liquid and an audible swallow.

“I’m _sick_ of only going after what I’m _supposed_ to want.”

Robert lunged forward, taking Aaron’s mouth again, and Aaron pressed back, instantly. His hands reached under Robert’s jacket, and he lined his fingers up against Robert’s ribs, felt the rise and fall. Tasted it.

Kept tasting.

\--

They didn’t have sex. But it was a narrow thing.

Aaron had pushed Robert’s jacket from his shoulders, shushing his complaints, and Robert had started working on Aaron’s buckle when they heard a barking. They had just enough time to get themselves in order when a small family and their two dogs burst out of the trail, nattering and having a generally PG day out. Aaron’s face burned and Robert waved at them jauntily, tossing them a _lovely day for it_. The prick.

“Probably for the best,” Robert sighed, when the family had packed up their car and driven off.

“How’d you figure that?” Aaron grumbled. Robert sidled in close again, tapped his index finger on the metal of the buckle he’d just been pawing, each little _plink_ sending a jolt through Aaron’s unsteady legs.

“As much as I’d enjoy fucking you up against a tree – “ Robert grinned at Aaron’s snort and blush. “If we’re really doing this whole _dating_ thing,” Aaron pulled a face, but didn’t object. Robert nodded minutely, and Aaron realised he was checking. In his knobbish way, but still. He was checking where they stood. “I should probably romance you a bit.”

Aaron snorted again, putting his hands in his pockets. With Robert looking at him like that, the burn of his mouth still fizzing on Aaron’s lips and neck, it was a sensible precautionary measure.

“Try it,” he said. “See where it gets you.”

“I have some idea where it might get me,” Robert said, sly. Warm. Aaron wriggled his toes in his boots, shrugged. They hovered, looking at each other while the sounds of the distant stream and the not distant enough world carried on, fading into the background. The green and blue of earth and sky nowhere near as important as the green and blue between them.

“Do we live here now then, or am I taking you home?” Aaron eventually said, pulling his bottom lip in under his top one, holding back a smile.

“Forward,” Robert said, smiling. Tilting from one foot to the other.

“Pillock,” Aaron said.

They made their way back to the bike, and Aaron hopped on, jamming on his helmet. Robert slipped on behind him, and wound his arms around Aaron, firm and sure this time, thumb stroking Aaron’s ribcage, thighs framing Aaron’s hips.

Aaron started the bike.

Felt the rumble.

\--

With the bike returned to the forecourt, Aaron fiddled with the garage keys. He should probably reopen, try and get some more work done. Robert stared at him, bold, having shed any of the vulnerability he showed somewhere back amongst the trees. He reached forward and hooked his fingers around the zip of Aaron’s hoodie, reeling him in.

“Geddoff,” Aaron said, for form’s sake. “Grabbier than a sodding octopus, you.”

“Eight hands,” Robert mused. “I could think of worse things.” Robert dipped down, visited Aaron’s mouth with a kiss indecent for daylight, a kiss to send the sun ducking shyly behind the clouds. He pulled away. “Think you like it, anyway,” he said, smug and insufferable.

“I’d _like,_ ” Aaron said, closing his hand over Robert’s and shoving it away, “if you were less of a prat.”

Robert looked at him, the right side of his mouth curving into a smirk. “No you wouldn’t,” he said, confidently, but quietly. Aaron pressed his lips together. “I’ll text you.”

Aaron watched Robert walk away, and caught him when he looked back. Shamelessly, the bastard winked. Aaron waited until he was long out of his eyeline before he let himself smile.

“Well if there was any doubt left you’re a Dingle, that’s that gone.” Cain emerged from the side of the garage, and only by the grace of God did Aaron manage not to leap a foot in the air. He scrunched his eyes closed, ready for another bollocking.

“How’s that?”

“You’ve got Dingle taste in men,” Cain said, crunching toward him. “Piss poor.”

Cain came to stand opposite him, staring him down. Aaron glanced up at the sky.

“Don’t know what you want me to say, here. Other than I hope you had a nice perv back there, weirdo.” Aaron stepped back out of range of the cuffing Cain went for, and trudged up to the garage building to unlock everything again.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, lad.”

_Me too._

“My business at the end of the day, in’t it?”

“That you asking me not to tell your mum?”

“There’s nowt to tell,” Aaron said, swinging the door open. Cain caught it with a flat palm, furrowed his brow at him. “Yet,” Aaron allowed. “Besides, she’s always banging on about me finding a bloke.”

“Yeah, a bloke, not a – a - “ Aaron waited while Cain decided on his ultimate insult. “ _Sugden.”_

“Nice. Real zinger, that.” Aaron flipped through the log books, making sure everything was up to date. He’d planned on doing some paperwork before Robert turned up and pulled the rug out.

“Well I’ve other stuff on my mind today, alright. Who you’re copping off with is the least of my problems.”

“Right?”

Cain sighed, rubbing his eyebrow and throwing himself into the chair by the kettle.

“You makin’ me a brew, or?” Aaron rolled his eyes and set about it. “The job’s off.”

“Eh?” Aaron looked over his shoulder, dropping the teabags in. “Since when?”

“Since that no-mark Ross decided to go AWOL, that’s when. The job was meant to go tonight but I can’t get hold of him, and neither can Mo or Curly,” Aaron huffed. He felt bad for Pete and Finn sometimes. The flack they got for sharing genetic material with Ross far outweighed any possible conceived benefit. “Can’t someone just fill in?”

“It’s too late now. With the Hellraisers being involved – bit dodgy to be changing things up. Too risky, like. I’m not out here trying to play Russian roulette of a night.”

“I know.” Aaron understood. A lot of people thought that Cain was tamed, since he got together with Moira. He wasn’t. He was just less impulsive. He’d still deck a bloke, or nick a nice motor, or make vicious threats. He was just more patient about it these days. He had something to lose now, if he went away, or if Adam did. Probably even if the Barton boys did, Aaron reflected, Moira still locked into the whole family lark with James.

“It’s off for now, but the Hellraisers don’t know we’re looking at them for this. That’s still to our advantage. Give it a couple of weeks and we’ll get sommat new sorted,” Aaron set a mug down next to Cain, noticed his uncle watching him. “Would you be in?”

Aaron blinked. “Why now? What’s changed?”

“What’s changed is you were right about that pillock, Ross. I can’t rely on him.”

Aaron leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I get that in writing?”

“You can get it tattooed across your arse for all I care, Aaron, are you in?” Cain scowled, rubbed at his forehead.

“Yeah, yeah of course.”

Cain nodded. “When I’ve got sommat together I’ll let you know right? Just be ready. Don’t need anyone else letting me down.”

Aaron flicked a sarcastic salute, half a scowl on. Then he felt his phone buzz in his pocket.

He turned away from Cain to check it.

 **Robert:** thanks for the ride ; )

He huffed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert has a run in with Katie, then seeks a distraction

Robert had been seeing Aaron Dingle for just over a week.

A week of laying his hand on Aaron’s thigh under the café tables, of wandering over to the garage when he got a five minute break in his shift. A week of a jump in his chest whenever they met eyes, a week of having his ear bent about car parts he was too long out of the mechanic game to give a shit about, but seemed fascinating when Aaron described their functionality, the improvements they made.

A week of the village being too outstandingly heterosexual to have noticed. Other than Charity.

Just the day before, Aaron had come into the pub for his lunch, overalls tied around his waist, eyes finding Robert easily behind the bar. He’d been about to sit down on one of the stools when Robert flicked his head, gesturing to the crisps corridor. Aaron followed, but with the look of someone who just happened to wander back there.

“Hey,” Robert said, perfunctorily, before pulling Aaron in.

“Hey,” Aaron said, amused, eyes bright but mouth in a straight line. Robert couldn’t be having that. He pushed Aaron into the wall beside the racks of crisp boxes, threading his fingers through the short hair at the back of Aaron’s head. He tightened his hold a bit, stealing a quick kiss from Aaron’s mouth before pulling his head to the side.

The exhale Aaron let out when Robert pressed his lips to his neck was gratifying, and Robert was never one to waste an opportunity to capitalise. He opened his mouth against the thin skin, sucked gently. Aaron’s hands came up to catch Robert’s elbows.

“Thought you had customers?” Aaron breathed out. Robert sucked a little harder, could run miles off the power he got from Aaron’s tiny moan.

“Everyone’s entitled to a break,” Robert murmured, making sure his lips brushed over where he’d been. “Even Charity’s got to respect labour laws.”

“Wouldn’t bet on it if I were you mate,” Aaron said. _Mate._ Robert felt the scrape of Aaron’s stubble under his tongue, tasted salt. He pressed his teeth against the tendon, Aaron letting his head fall further to the side. Robert chased his mouth, pulled kisses from there instead until he felt himself getting hard in his jeans. He moved back, Aaron’s hands still on his elbows not letting him go far. He knew he worked in a biker pub, but even the Woolpack had some standards of professionalism. They parted, Robert bringing Aaron a plate for lunch and trying his best not to examine how he was simultaneously charmed and repulsed by how Aaron ate it like it was the first and last food he’d ever been served.

After Aaron had gone back to work and Robert had cleared away his plate, no evidence left of him having been there at all, Charity came back in and winked at him like she knew something. Disconcerting, to say the least, but also welcome. Someone he hadn’t told explicitly, knew. He didn’t know if it was because it was Charity, someone with no power to judge and no connection to his dad, but it felt okay. Her knowing.

Robert could get used to it, is what he was saying.

Which was why he was stood outside the café, texting Aaron to see if he’d like a coffee brought to the garage.

 **Robert:** latte right?

 **Aaron:** not everybody likes the tar u drink

 **Robert:** i like acquired tastes

 **Robert:** you prob shouldn’t be complaining about that

Robert watched the _…_ come up on his screen, sniffed against the brisk wind. They were closing in on December fast, and just like it happened every year, Christmas would swallow the last part of the calendar. Robert wondered idly what he’d do this year, now that he was back in the village. Maybe something with Vic? Except if she and Adam made it to Christmas she’d probably be doing something with the Bartons, Butler’s serving up the kind of rustic aesthetic and ample space that lifestyle magazines salivated over at Christmas time.

Before he could go too far down the rabbit hole, his phone chirped.

 **Aaron:** bring me a bun as well

 **Robert:** magic word?

 **Aaron:** **🙏** / 🖕

Robert laughed aloud, the grin of it remaining as he locked his phone and set about getting his right glove back on.

“So it’s true then,” he heard, and turned to see Katie watching him, just emerged from the café herself judging by her carry cup. “What Andy told me? That you were getting your claws into some other poor cow.”

Robert flexed his hand, wiggling his fingers into the warm spaces.

“Put it like that, did he?” he asked, strolling forward. “Might’ve just been talking farm to you, you should just tell him if that’s not your kink.”

“No, you’re right. He was a lot more generous. Said you’d _met someone new._ ” Katie narrowed her eyes. “But I’m not your brother. I’m not generous when it comes to you.”

“Clearly,” Robert said, rolling his eyes.

“Whoever she is, I feel sorry for her,” Katie said. “You’ll do to her what you do to everyone – “

“Is this going to be a speech? Because I’m – “ Robert pointed to the café door. He didn’t want to hang about getting in a slanging match with Katie. He had a late starting shift today, and wanted to spend as much of his afternoon as he could get away with in Aaron’s company, even if all he got to do was watch him work on a car or bike. Lure him away for a few minutes at a time with a well placed remark and an even better placed hand.

“Who is she?” Katie said, as he tried to skim past her.

“It’s none of your business, Katie.”

“Just feel like I should send flowers, is all,” Katie said. “Condolences. You’ll be into her knickers and out the door before she knows what’s happening.”

“It’s not like that,” Robert spat. Because it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

“Oh,” Katie said, widening her eyes mockingly. “Should I be finding myself a hat?”

“Not bloody likely, you’d not be invited.” Her mouth dropped open, and Robert felt vindication shoot through him like a pain, a quick relief so sharp it was heady. “It’s early days. It’s new. I’m not trying anything on.”

“Well if it’s the real deal, why the big secret?”

“Because Katie, believe it or not, you coming flying at me like a mad cat out a bin and demanding to know my business doesn’t put me in a sharing mood, especially since the last time you decided to stick the knife in you sent hubby to do your apologising for you.” Robert was stepping closer to her as he spoke, and Katie backed up into one of the rickety outside tables, the sound of metal scraping across the ground. She looked up into his face as he stabbed his pointer finger at her, and he thought maybe he saw a flicker of something there. “So back off, eh?”

They both looked up at the sound of tires and an engine cutting. Andy jumped out of his truck, making his way over to them, arms swinging.

“What’s all this?” he stopped beside Katie, the two of them playing at united front.

“Nowt,” Robert said. “Poirot here just felt like shooting the breeze.”

“Eh?”

“God Andy I know it’d be too much to ask you to read a book, but you could at least flick on the telly once in a while,” Robert snarked. Andy’s face fell.

“This is civil is it?” He nailed it. Jack Sugden had done such a fantastic job cloning himself – must not have wanted to take any chances after the disaster that was _Robert_ \- Andy had their Dad’s disappointed voice down to a tee, Mr High Road, flatcap to boots.

“And this,” he pointed at Katie, “this is what _sorry_ looks like, is it?” Andy looked askance at her, but with nothing forthcoming Robert leapt back in. “You’ve got everything you want. Happy little marriage, a farm, perfect little life, yeah? What’s so offensive about me wanting to be happy, too? Why am I the only one who’s not allowed to move on from who we were when we were kids?” Robert looked squarely at Andy. “From the things we’ve done.”

Andy reached forward, trying to catch Robert’s shoulder but Robert shrugged him off, turning around and heading down the road.

“Robert, wait,” Andy called after him.

“Get fucked,” Robert sent back, only seeing Gabby across the road too late. Bernice covered her ears with her motherly palms and Robert rolled his eyes. Great, something else for him to get flack over. He carried on, ignoring her pinched mouth opening to scold him, and made a straight shot for the garage.

There was only one person he could stand to see right now.

\--

Aaron tinkered lightly, not wanting to get too involved in a particular job if Robert was on his way. He cleaned his hands on a rag and balled it up, throwing it into the corner, making a quiet cheering noise for himself when it landed in a bucket. He cut off suddenly when he heard the creak of the garage door, and turned to see Robert closing it behind him.

“What d’you think you’re – mmph.” Robert swept him up in a kiss, fast and harsh, breaths coming to him just as hard. He dragged at Aaron’s overalls, and Aaron managed to get hands up between them to push him away. “Robert.”

“Aaron,” Robert said, then moved in again.

“Wait,” Aaron scanned his face. His mouth was reddened and lovely as ever, but with a bitter twist to it. It was his eyes that were the real problem though. Green, gorgeous…somewhere else entirely. “What’s brought this on?”

“Fishing, are you?” Robert jabbed. “Not a good look.”

“Eh?”

“Need me to tell you you’re fit, or sommat? Light some candles?”

Aaron drew his head back, furrowing his eyebrows.

“No.”

“Good then.” Robert kissed him again, pushed his way into Aaron’s mouth and curled his tongue behind his teeth. Aaron let him, kissed him back, felt it down in his toes, then backed off. Robert groaned. “What is this, hard to get?”

“I told you I don’t play games,” Aaron said, removing himself from Robert’s arms. “Don’t mean I fuck on command either.”

“Didn’t realise I had such a delicate flower on my hands,” Robert spat. Aaron didn’t bother responding to that one, just turned his back and picked up the clipboard with the intake form for the car he was set to work on today.

“Ignoring me now? You just said you don’t play games, make up your mind.”

“Make up yours,” Aaron said. “You can act like a muppet outside, or stay here and tell me what happened between you texting me and showing up here with sommat to prove.”

“Fine,” Robert said, turning on his heel and storming out the garage door.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert has an apology to make, and a conversation to have. Aaron takes a little control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for discussions of Aaron's suicide attempt and general mental illness associated heaviness
> 
> also first chapter with full on sexual content so keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle, don't forget your picture on the way out

Robert lasted a grand total of fifteen minutes before he realised he might have been a bit of a prat. He circled back to the café before making a second run at the garage. Aaron had left the door closed, and Robert could hear a tinny radio playing inside. He stepped in, the reception somehow chillier than it was outside. He raised the coffee cups in their two-cup holder.

“Can we pretend I just didn’t come here earlier? Start today over?”

Aaron snorted. His gaze flickered over Robert a moment.

“Brought my bun this time?”

Robert raised his other hand, the paper bag crinkling. He met Aaron’s eye.

“Give it here then,” Aaron said, grabbing it like the animal he was about food. He dug out a blueberry muffin, white chocolate shaved on top in dainty swirls, and absolutely caved a section of it out with his teeth. He chewed. Swallowed.

Robert set the coffee down on the side table between the greasy spanners.

“I’m sorry,” he said, lowly.

Aaron leaned against the side of the car, and Robert moved to stand beside him.

“It was Katie,” Robert said, after a few moments. “Winding me up.”

“Right.”

“Telling me I’m gonna mess this up – “ he said, gesturing between them. Aaron frowned. “She doesn’t know it’s you, she just knows I’ve got…someone.”

Aaron kept nodding and chewing. Robert watched his profile, the smooth line of his nose, the corner of his mouth secreting away crumbs. The movement of his jaw.

“Someone special,” Robert said, quietly. Aaron’s jaw stopped. He looked sidelong at Robert.

“Yeah?” he asked grumpily, like the answer wouldn’t put him up or down either way.

“Yeah,” Robert said.

Aaron wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist and tossed the wrapper into the bin. Robert watched the arc of it, felt the same whoosh in his stomach. He faced Aaron, his front to Aaron’s side, pressing in close.

“I know I’ve been an idiot. I’m honestly sorry.”

Aaron stared straight ahead.

“Was the bun okay, at least?” Robert asked at a murmur, lighting up inside when Aaron couldn’t hold back a twitch of the mouth. He shrugged, the rise and fall of his arm skidding all along Robert’s front. “Are _we_ okay?”

Robert reached up, turning Aaron’s chin so he had to look at him. Waited for a rejection that didn’t come. Kissed him once, softly. Once, deeply. Breathed in through his nose in one long, stretching inhale.

“Depends,” Aaron said.

“On?”

“Whether you kicking off was about more than Katie getting on your wick.” Aaron stared at him, and Robert didn’t know what to do with how perceptive that stare was. “I won’t hold it against you if you change your mind. This is your out. Right now.”

“Eh?” A blip of panic did a zipping round of Robert’s nervous system. “I don’t want an out.”

“You don’t wanna _be_ out.” Robert watched the smoothing of Aaron’s face, how he suddenly looked so much older. There was a weight there, that sunk his eyes from the blue of the sky to a deeper storm whipped sea. “So, I’m sayin’ it now, Robert. I honestly won’t grudge you it, yeah? But if you mess me about, I will. Your decision.”

“I already decided, last week, remember?” Robert huffed, feeling frustrated – with the village, with Katie and Andy, with himself. With Aaron, a bit. “I told you I wanted you. It’s just…difficult.”

Aaron snorted, and Robert felt a flash of hurt before he clocked that the older-face Aaron was still wearing. “You don’t have to tell me that, mate.”

Robert relaxed, looping a few of his fingers into the deep pocket of Aaron’s overalls. There was no intention in it, no tug or pull. He just rested them there. Wanted to be close. “Vic said…”

Aaron shot him a questioning glance.

“Not specifics,” Robert clarified, quietly. There was no one around, but the conversation felt so private, so whisper-worthy Robert couldn’t help but drop his voice, let it soften around the edges. “Just said that you’d understand.”

Aaron nodded, bottom lip pushed up into something more serious than a pout. He looked down at his shoes, then back to Robert, assessing. Robert wanted to be up to whatever task Aaron was measuring him up for, held his gaze, not knowing how else to show that he could be.

“I tried to top myself,” Aaron said, faux-casual, letting it ride out on a shrug. “In here, actually.”

Robert’s heart fell. That older-face made sense now – it was a callous grown over the young man Aaron could have been, should have been able to be. He didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know what to say,” Robert decided on. Aaron sniffed lightly.

“Didn’t expect you to.” Aaron stepped away, over to the toolbox on the counter. Metal clanked together harshly. “Sometimes you have to just sit with sommat.”

So they did.

\--

Robert watched Aaron work his way through a job on a fairly clapped out Renault, the conversation grown stilted, then loosening. Freeing up again.

The air lost its taut quality, and they just _were_ again.

More than anything, Robert was struck by the lack of urge to run a mile.

There had been a second. He wouldn’t say so, but there had been a second when all he could see were Aaron’s legs sticking out the bottom of the car, and Robert looked around the garage. The unforgiving surfaces, the grease and smell of oil. The sharpness of the place. He thought about what it would be like to die in a place like this. To want to. Couldn’t imagine it. And thought about taking the out he was offered.

Then Aaron rolled out, gloves smeared in dark fluid and a bright flash of a smile, asking for a wrench by Robert’s leg. Robert picked it up. Put his running shoes away.

“Aaron,” Robert said, seriously. Aaron looked up at him, laid out on the dolly – he looked edible. A long blue line, sleeves rolled up, spread out and vulnerable. Except his face, smile gone and carefully composed to give nothing away. “I don’t. I don’t want an out.”

They shared an intense moment, eye to eye.

“Good,” Aaron finally said. He flicked his eyes to Robert’s hands. “You gonna pass me that or do I have to submit a request form?”

\--

“I’ve told Adam,” Aaron said, once he’d done cleaning up, gloves disposed of and at least one job done today.

“Oh. Have you?” Robert raised his eyebrows. “When?”

“Day we went on that ride,” Aaron mumbled. Robert smiled. He couldn’t quite picture Aaron gabbing down the phone to Adam about boys, but it made his heart flip over to imagine himself the cause. “Problem?”

“No,” Robert said. “He’s your best mate. And Vic’s boyfriend,” he tacked on, grimacing.

“Might be good for you n’all. To _tell_ someone,” Aaron broached. “Not just let everyone find out.”

“What’s the difference?”

“You _know_ what the difference is,” Aaron said, unimpressed by Robert’s dumbshow. It was true, he did know. Control. Doing, not reacting. Truth, not story.

“Not trying to push you or owt,” Aaron shrugged, checking everything over one last time. He was off to collect some specialist car part from a supplier who wouldn’t bother himself with the drive, while Robert languished his way through a Woolpack shift.

“You sure?” Robert said, without heat. Aaron turned to face him, and he eyed Robert over. Robert noticed that the older-face he had seen earlier had melted away, Aaron’s mouth relaxed, his eyes roving. Robert licked his lips and Aaron wandered casually over to stand in front of him.

He clasped his square palms around Robert’s biceps. Robert’s hands fell naturally to Aaron’s hips, tightening when Aaron drove him back into the side of the car he’d watched Aaron spend the afternoon fixing. Aaron tilted his chin up, eyes burning up into Robert’s and mouth parting in a lush, private invitation. Robert’s hips jerked forward as Aaron held him pressed up against the car, his grip strong.

“When I push you,” Aaron said, breath warm on Robert’s face, eyes dark enough for nightswimming, “you’ll know what it feels like.”

Aaron pressed his thigh forward between Robert’s as he swelled up to catch Robert’s mouth. Robert moved with the wave of him, sinking into the heat, wasting no time sucking Aaron’s tongue and letting his hands glide up the plane of his front to hold his face. Aaron pressed in tighter, and Robert ground his hips down, letting out a moan against Aaron’s searching lips. Robert kissed him until he was light headed and heavy eyed with it, his own sense of gravity evaporated, everything warm and getting warmer.

“Thought you were on a pick up?”

“He can wait,” Aaron said, slipping a hand under Robert’s shirt, thumbing at his nipple and sending a shudder through him. “Thought you had work?”

Robert pulled at Aaron’s overalls, a repeat of his earlier performance, except this time he was all the way dialled in, feeling the coarse fabric under his fingers. The popping sound of each little snap button was music, and Robert relished how Aaron let the top half fall off his shoulders.

“Can wait,” Robert parroted.

“Glad to hear it,” Aaron said, and without ceremony, lowered himself to his knees. Robert just about swallowed his own tongue, but managed a grin. Not that Aaron saw it, singularly focused on getting Robert’s belt unbuckled, button popped, fly unzipped. He took hold of the waistband of Robert’s jeans and underwear, and all in one go, peeled them down to Robert’s knees. Robert breathed in shallowly, knowing that from an outside view, he probably couldn’t look less dignified, pale thighs exposed in the murky garage. But it was hard to feel anything but powerful, looking down at Aaron, bum propped up on the heels of his boots, tongue flicking out to lick his lips.

Aaron’s hands were still clasped around Robert’s waistbands when he leaned up and forward, pulling Robert’s cock into his mouth without guidance and sucking him down. Robert’s knees gave, just a bit, and he slapped a hand back onto the car.

“Oi,” Aaron said, pulling off, eyes glittering over a scowl. “Spent all day fixing that.”

“I’ll buy the sodding car if I have to, just keep – “ Robert flicked his eyes down to his cock, now wet from Aaron’s mouth, and Aaron smirked. He pulled the same hands-free move, sending Robert’s eyes rolling back, a moan spilling out of his mouth, liquid, like his bones. Aaron sucked him in long, quick pulls, and to avoid any more interruptions, Robert found a different place for his hand, resting it on the back of Aaron’s head, fingers shaky as he teased them through Aaron’s short hair.

“Just so you know,” Robert said, shivering as Aaron skimmed his hands up Robert’s thighs, held Robert’s hips with his thumbs notched in Robert’s hip bones, “everything about this…really works for me.” Aaron rolled his eyes, and Robert stifled a laugh, only to have it lodge in his throat when Aaron pressed all the way down, swallowing around him, then pulling off. He stroked Robert with one hand, the way slicked with spit, and tugged Robert’s balls with the other. Robert moaned, widening his thighs. _Merciless, beautiful bastard._

“You always this gobby when you’re getting sucked off, or?”

Robert looked down at him, blue eyes blown out, mouth red. He cupped Aaron’s cheek, rested his thumb on the centre of Aaron’s bottom lip.

“Find out, eh?”

Robert raked his hand through Aaron’s hair, sweeping it away from his forehead, and with minimal grumbling Aaron got back to it, licking and sucking, bobbing his head until Robert thought – well, nothing. He thought nothing, felt everything, until it all crested. He looked down just as Aaron flicked his own eyes up, bottom lash line wet and cheeks hollowed. Robert couldn’t look away until the last moment, and with less warning than was strictly polite, he came in Aaron’s mouth.

He unclenched his hand from where it gripped at the shoulder of Aaron’s hoodie, his toes uncurling in his shoes. Aaron leaned back on his heels, wiping his mouth while looking at Robert. It was bewilderingly sexy, and only got worse when Aaron smugly arched an eyebrow at him.

“Y’alright?” Aaron asked. His voice was wrecked, scratchy and gruff, like he was pulling it up from his chest. Robert nodded.

“You’re…really good at that,” he said, catching his breath, waiting for his chest to relax and settle. “Is it mad that I’m a little jealous?”

Aaron quirked his head.

Robert laughed, a quiet one. “That you’ve had _practise_.”

Aaron scoffed, and Robert took that as his answer, and as fair. It wasn’t like he had a leg to stand on, Emmerdale town council only a few steps away from giving him a nametag; _Robert Sugden, local tart._

“C’mere,” Robert said, manhandling Aaron back to his feet, opening the car door and shoving Aaron across the back seats. Aaron propped himself up on his elbows, legs hanging out the car. Robert reached in and pulled the bottom half of his overalls down, then crowded in on top of him. He leaned in, tasted himself in Aaron’s mouth, savored the second of surprise he could feel in Aaron’s face. He licked his way inside, dipping his hand into Aaron’s trousers.

He grinned against Aaron’s lips when his hips jerked up into Robert’s touch, when Aaron’s breath hitched in his throat.

“My turn,” Robert said, and took it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron has a meeting with Cain and reflects on the last few weeks with Robert. Robert has a pint with Adam, and does something similar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw there's a few more references to aaron's suicide attempt, but still nothing graphic or very in depth. this chapter is mostly and unabashedly fluff

“Oi,” Cain said, a moment before a cold, soggy teabag slapped into Aaron’s face.

“Urgh – what – what you doing?”

“Talking to myself, apparently,” Cain said, undercut by the amused twist to his mouth as Aaron wiped his face on his sleeve, flicking the tea bag across Moira’s kitchen table. It was completely unjustified – Aaron had been listening intently the whole time Cain had been explaining the job they were undertaking. There was a change of plans from the first go around, as one of the other Saints had brought Cain a Christmas present; a new piece of intel about the Hellraisers’ rented warehouse complex. The building next door to the one where the rival gang stashed all their stolen gear was being cleared out – the legit business that owned it having gone under. What was in there would be repossessed, leaving the warehouse disused.

And with adjoining doors to the Hellraisers facility.

A potentially dicey job was going to be much less risky, Saints filing in, grabbing what they could, and clearing off before the Hellraisers would be any the wiser. It was almost for the best that Ross had ballsed up the last plan, a dodgier and more frontal assault – not that Cain or Aaron would be telling him that any time soon.

Cain was ringing around some contacts, trying to get some repo-men uniforms for the Saints, and until then, they were all sitting tight. As such, Aaron didn’t have much to think about, other than meeting Robert for tea. In the Woolpack. Tonight.

In the weeks since their rendezvous in the garage Robert had been getting even handsier, bolder about grabbing Aaron for a snog whenever he had so much as a minute, for more when the time was available. If Aaron had to apply a collective noun to the amount of sex they were having, he’d say an embarrassment. They were having an embarrassment of sex. In Aaron’s room at Debbie’s, in Robert’s at the pub, that one time Robert blew Aaron on Debbie’s couch which he refused to count and no one needed to know about. A memorable occasion in an abandoned barn they came across on a bike ride, Robert too beautiful and windswept and Aaron too wound up from close proximity and a vibrating engine. Aaron wasn’t complaining, not even a bit. Feeling Robert against him, the wide breadth of his hands, the hard planes of his chest against Aaron’s – it was dizzying. Every time Robert touched him, Aaron felt it everywhere, in a surge. The brightest moment just before the power cut.

It had come as a surprise, straddled across Robert’s lap in the pub backroom, while Marlon did his nut in shuttling between the kitchen and the bar while Robert took a break. Aaron liked having Robert under him, pinning him under his weight while Robert’s hands skittered over Aaron’s stomach, his back.

“Y’alright?” Robert had squeezed in between kisses, picking up some tension in Aaron he never meant to telegraph. Anyone would say Aaron wasn’t an especially easy person to read, but Robert seemed to have taken to the language of Aaron’s body with a natural aptitude as well as a smug expression.

“Yeah,” Aaron said, meaning _no,_ but afraid of sounding too needy with it. “S’just, you’ve only got a few minutes.”

“Can do a lot with a few minutes,” Robert said, palming Aaron’s arse and squeezing. Aaron’s hips ground forward at the pressure, a moan climbing the walls of his throat.

“Not enough,” Aaron huffed. Robert grinned slyly, reeling his head back to look up at Aaron, who, for want of anywhere to hide his awkwardness, fronted it out. “What?”

“It’s like that, is it?”

“Like what?” Robert’s hands rested at the base of Aaron’s spine, and he could feel the pad of every fingertip, wished there was no fabric, no job, no anything in the way between. “I seem to remember sommat about you _romancin’_ me.”

“Oh? Thought you weren’t keen,” Robert looked up at him, head tilted back, and Aaron couldn’t resist stealing another kiss. Just a soft one, a minor theft.

“Didn’t want you getting a bigger head did I,” Aaron said.

“Well,” Robert paused, laying a kiss of his own at the dip between Aaron’s collar bones. “How about tea, tomorrow? I’m working the afternoon, but – “ Robert interrupted himself to brush his lips against Aaron’s throat. There was something irresistible in this thread stretched between them, both of them standing helpless on either end. Aaron leaned into the whispering kiss. “But I have the night off. We can eat here, go out after if you like?”

“Here?” Aaron pulled back. “That your idea of some big romantic date, is it?” He was mostly joking, the two of them having hit a few casual restaurants in town, the cinema once – probably never again given the rate of Robert’s nattering – and a number of bike rides. They’d been on dates. They’d been _dating._ The most meaningful time they spent apart was Christmas Day, Aaron wedged in among the Dingles and Robert tagging along with Vic and Adam to Butlers, texting Aaron under the table about the many uses of mistletoe.

“Not usually,” Robert admitted, leaning back a bit into the sofa cushions, considering Aaron seriously. He moved a hand up to Aaron’s face, thumb sliding behind the sharpest angle of Aaron’s jaw, and Aaron melted. He let his weight sink, knees digging deeper into the couch on either side of Robert’s hips.

“You think I’m a cheap date, or sommat?”

“The opposite, I’m – “ Robert paused. “I thought _here_ because I want you to know I’m not tryin’ to hide you, it’s just kind of – “

“Worked out that way,” Aaron agreed. Short of letting Robert fuck him across one of the tables in the caff, it seemed the village wasn’t ready to see past the hetero-armour Robert had assembled around himself over the years, not even when it was right in front of them and that armour turned out to be closer to papier mâché than iron. Aaron shifted his weight so there was no space between them, and kissed Robert until his head swam, his limbs gone loose and pliable.

“Here’s alright,” he mumbled, somewhere in between nibbling Robert’s bottom lip and Robert doing the same to Aaron’s earlobe.

“Good,” Robert said, satisfied. “Besides, if I take you somewhere flash you’ll clash with the décor.”

“You sayin’ I’m rough?”

Robert smiled. Wide, arrogant, unrepentant. Gorgeous, just to be an arsehole about it.

“Maybe. Not sayin’ I don’t like it though.”

They were still tangled up in each other when Marlon came looking, and his gobsmacked expression was almost worth Aaron being seen spread across Robert’s lap with his hands in Aaron’s back pockets.

Robert seemed alright with it, Aaron reflected. There had been a significant, frozen moment, none of them knowing how it would or should play out. Then Robert seemed to click into a comfortable, smug gear, gave Aaron’s arse another cheeky squeeze and asked Marlon if he’d brought his ticket for the floor show.

_Idiot._

Aaron smiled, then looked up again to see Cain scowling at him.

“Get out of here, lad, you’re less than useless.”

“Harsh,” Aaron said, already getting up, adding the creak of his chair to the farm noises and grabbing his coat off the rack. “Adam about?”

“On his way to the pub, last I heard,” Cain answered shortly, pulling a paper across the table and flipping it open. “Next time I see you, have your head screwed on. You can daydream about Prince Smarming in your own time.”

“Pfft. I wasn’t – “ Cain fixed him with a look and Aaron settled for rolling his eyes and getting out while he still had knees and dignity. He’d put a bit of time in at the garage – one of the lads brought his bike in with a cracked windshield – and then head home for a shower and change.

Aaron strode across the yard, a few chickens clucking their way out of his path, the wide, grey-white winter sky a gentle bow. He wouldn’t say it out loud for love nor money but…he was excited. This thing with Robert, it was new, but it wasn’t just that. It was fresh, and fun, and something that a young person might get involved in. Not a tragic spiral, like everything with Jackson turned into, not a walk in lead shoes, not something Aaron was _coping_ with. Definitely not prison. It was freeing, and though not uncomplicated on the whole, there was enough to it that Aaron thought that with a little work…it could really make him happy.

It was a scary thing to admit. That he could be happy. After all this time, he’d doubted it, his experience of life was that it was a survival game. Living? Living and enjoying, not coping and struggling? That was new. Different. Doable, maybe.

He knew it was unwise to count his chickens off the back of a new relationship, he wasn’t an idiot. But he’d seen the way Robert looked at him. He’d seen the effort Robert was making, in ways that wouldn’t be immediately apparent to someone else. They had something, it wasn’t in Aaron’s head. Robert cared about him.

And Aaron, against the better judgement of half the village, the future worry of his mother, his own expertise in ruination –

He cared about Robert. More than he expected to so early. More than was sensible, more than he’d be letting on just yet. But if one thing was on Aaron’s side it was that he was stubborn.

And he wouldn’t be letting this go in a hurry.

\--

“Change that barrel for me, Robert and you can finish,” Charity said, spraying foam and nothing else into a glass.

“You sure?” Robert asked, suspicious.

“You’ve spent half the day staring at the clock, so yeah. I’m sure.” Robert squashed his impulse to backchat, _spent the other half putting away all your tacky Christmas decorations_ , and kept an eye on her. Charity meandered over, giving him a nudge as he finished sorting notes into the till. “You got a hot date?”

Robert looked down at his hands, lowered the little metal arm over the fivers and turned around calmly.

“I do, actually.”

“Yeah?” Charity feigned shock. She extended her index finger, tapping her chin with exaggerated thoughtfulness. The stage wept; she had truly missed her calling. “Anyone I might know?”

“Maybe,” Robert said, skirting around her. She gasped playfully, crossing her arms while the people sitting at the bar watched on, drawn into the teasing atmosphere.

“Why so coy, Robert?” She followed him out into the back, even when he opened the door to the cellar, and traipsed down the stairs after him.

“What was the point in asking me to do this if you were gonna just leave the bar unattended anyway?” Robert grumbled, setting about the task while Charity watched him, leaning casually against the wall.

“You know I don’t know who I should be congratulating,” Charity said, idly. “Him or you.”

The flash pulse of panic ricocheted through him. Robert let it. Let it fizzle out, removed its power. He stood up from where he’d been bowed over the barrels, grabbing a stray dishcloth to wipe his hands, facing her.

“Him,” he said, putting on the big show. “Obviously.”

Charity grinned, bright and lined with that little bit of chaos that underlined everything she did. But there was something in it that made him smile back, unabashed.

“Obviously,” she repeated. She turned to go back up the stairs, then faced him again as though another thought had just struck her. “You know Chas is going to have your guts for garters?”

“I had guessed,” Robert said, dryly. “But she’s not home yet. Is she.”

“While the cat’s away,” Charity winked, leaving Robert wiping his hands dry, and trying to wipe the smile from his face.

\--

Robert was leaving the pub, going for a walk to occupy himself until meeting Aaron when he walked right past Adam, who stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Robert, mate,” he said. Robert looked at him.

“Yeah?”

Adam dallied for a moment before seeming to make a decision. “Pint?”

“I just finished my shift,” Robert said, then drolly, “and we’re outside.” _And I spent Christmas watching you slop wine down yourself, I’ve had my fill of you._

“I _meant_ ,” Adam said, “why don’t we get one.”

“Together?”

“That was the idea, man, yeah.” Adam scratched his neck. “Figured you’d be at a loose end for a few hours anyway.”

For the second time in not even a half hour, Robert felt the _zip_ of discomfort. This time it stayed. Itched. Adam held his hands up, started to back away, shaking his head. Like Robert wasn’t worth it. He bristled.

“Yeah, alright,” he said, enjoying Adam’s surprise. “Like you said. Loose end.”

\--

They sat with their pints in front of them, tucked away in a corner away from other ears, and said nothing. For a good five minutes.

“I know you know,” Robert said. Adam jolted at the sudden non sequitur, then shook his head lightly, widening his eyes.

“Know…”

“About me and Aaron.”

“Right. Not a secret though, is it?” Adam took a gulp off his pint, relaxing, which only served to confuse Robert more. He scanned Adam’s face, not sure what he was looking for.

“No,” he conceded, “but you’ve not said anything.”

Adam crossed his arms, leaning back against the bench seat.

“None of my business, is it? Besides what Aaron tells me about it.” Robert looked at him again, raising his eyebrows blithely. “What?”

“No urge to stick the knife in, then?” Robert prodded. If asked, he wouldn’t be able to say why exactly he was trying to provoke someone who loved and was loved by people Robert…cared for. Maybe because people tended to show themselves up under pressure, or at the very least showed _themselves_. “I’ve not made a secret of it that I don’t think you’re good enough for my sister.”

“Well, goes both ways on that one, mate.”

“Eh?”

“I don’t think I’m good enough for her either.” Adam shrugged. “What can you do, eh? Face like this, I’m irresistible.” His mouth spread in a laddish grin, all sparkly eyes and harmless charm. “Not that you’d know about that, eh.”

Robert huffed. Considered Adam again.

“You’ve not told anyone about me,” Robert said. He was surprised then when Adam’s face fell, and a sigh leaked from him, long and heavy.

“Nah mate,” he eventually said. He scratched a fingernail along his hairline, face doing something complicated. “When I found out Aaron was gay…I handled it all wrong.”

Robert raised an eyebrow, curious enough to tamp down the instinctive _I’m not gay_ and not really bothered going over the intricacies of liking both with Adam sodding Barton. “How so?”

“Shouted my mouth off about it to anyone who’d listen, for a start, so no one’d think _I_ was the gay one.” He swigged his pint, guilt pinching at his usually lineless, placid face.

“Nice.” Robert eyed him, contempt seeping into his mouth, twisting it into a sneer. “Some mate.”

“Tell me about it,” Adam grimaced, then looked at Robert with a fierceness that was both incongruous with and emphasised the soft shape of his face, the kind set of his dopey eyes. “You think I wouldn’t go back and do it all different? Be less of an idiot, more like the mate he deserved? Because I would, man. In a heartbeat.”

Robert faltered. Acknowledged a flicker of understanding of what Vic and Aaron might both find valuable in Adam. He was earnest. Robert wasn’t. But he could see why Vic – who’d lost so much, and Aaron – so seemingly touched by a darkness, why they might find that barefaced sincerity attractive.

“So what happened?”

Adam dropped his head, and the silence oozed a bit. “What happened is I had to do CPR on my best mate when he tried to top himself. Seein' him hooked up to machines that breathed for him because he didn't want to.” Adam raised his head, visibly straightening his spine, his shoulders, and looked Robert square in the eye. “And I know you don’t think much of me, Robert, right, but – that’s a lesson I learned from.”

Robert hated it. He _hated_ to admit it. In that moment he respected Adam Barton.

God he needed a shower.

They passed a bit more time, pints diminishing. Robert asked how the new bike was working out as a kind of conversational peace offering, but they otherwise stuck to Vic as a safe subject. How work was going, had they any plans for New Years – which Adam seemed very sure they would still be together for, and which didn’t seem as much of a pity as it had before. After a while, when the bottom of his glass was clear, Robert excused himself, wanting to leave plenty of time to get ready, mentally flicking through his shirts on their coat hangers.

He couldn’t resist one last question, before he went.

“About…Aaron,” he started. Adam nodded, prompting him, eyes edged with some amount of scrutiny. A wariness for his best mate, Robert supposed. “It’s all just so…heavy.”

Adam smiled ruefully, letting out a little laugh quite far away from his usual resounding cackle. He shrugged, finishing his pint.

“That’s Aaron, mate.” Adam got up, clapped Robert on the shoulder chummily. “Good luck, lad. Have a good one.”

Robert watched him go. _That’s Aaron, mate._

Robert didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all. He thought of a flashing smile, a crinkled eye, the surprisingly fine-boned wrists giving way to lean forearms, strong biceps. Aaron made Robert feel light, in a way he was unfamiliar with. Sure, Aaron was a man, and all that came with that. An Emmerdale native, all that came with that too. An ever expanding chronicle of tragedy. All that – that would never go away.

But when Aaron walked into a room, when Robert’s thoughts strayed to him in the middle of a shift, when he detected Aaron’s humour under the grumpy expressions he wore, took a quick headcount of all the people who loved him – the way Aaron made him feel…Robert could be balloons.

Lighter than air.

Just as free.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a dinner date wherein everyone and their mother has an opinion, and very, very delayed dessert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning; you'll be sitting a fair auld stretch for this one bc it's almost 5K. i'm sorry, i just had a lot i wanted to get done in it and as per usual i wouldn't be me if there weren't more wanky flourishes than there are fullstops. if anyone has any feedback on this extremely long chapter, i'd really appreciate it.
> 
> ps. the next chapter is much shorter and almost entirely sex so if that's an incentive 👍👍

Aaron hesitated outside the Woolpack, taking stock. Black jeans, simple grey jumper, his cleanest pair of hi tops. Curled up close in front of the tv at Debbie’s, he and Robert had had the exes talk, and Aaron had seen a picture of Chrissie. Robert told him about the flash lifestyle he got used to when they were seeing each other. It had all gotten a bit swept away when Aaron laid out his history with Jackson, a conversation that got less painful each time he did it. But right now his mind was circling back to it. That picture. Standing outside the pub feeling clean and presentable, Aaron wondered if it was enough.

If he was enough.

Chrissie was sleek, elegant lines for the wealth to run down like liquid gold. Aaron was rough edges and snags in all the hidden places. Nothing ran smooth with him. Nothing.

But nothing was running anywhere if he just stood outside like a lemon.

Aaron pulled his sleeves down over his hands and pushed inside, glancing around until he found Robert, just emerging from the door behind the bar. He was dressed in a pale blue shirt, hair styled with a light handedness that probably took forever. He approached Aaron, and as he drew closer Aaron could catch the scent of his cologne. Aaron didn’t have a very discerning sense of smell, but it was strong, and woody, but mellow – without spice. It was a smell to invite you in and keep you forever, and Aaron didn’t mind it.

Robert smirked, looking Aaron up and down with a slow, dragging gaze. He eyed Robert in return, taking in the planes of his shoulders in his shirt, the way the colour offset his skin.

“Not quite what I pictured you wearing,” Robert broke the silence eventually. Aaron raised an eyebrow, the flash of insecurity competing with the urge to cross his arms and tell Robert to do one. Robert leaned in, the angle of their bodies hiding the light fingertips he touched to Aaron’s elbow. “Been thinking about you in a suit.”

Aaron snorted, looked at Robert’s clothes pointedly. “Eh, one; you didn’t wear one, two; it’s _the Woolie_ and three; if I wore a suit we’d have people coming to the table all night asking what I’m in court for.”

Robert laughed, open smile and sweetly vulnerable throat. “In that case, might be better off,” he said, gesturing to a free booth table, “Want you all to myself, tonight.” His hand grazed Aaron’s lower back as they walked over and Aaron supressed a shiver at the contact. All of his nerve endings sparked when Robert was around, his body always keen to tell him when Robert was near, aching to close the crackling space. Robert dithered a moment, said he’d get menus off Charity and Aaron teased him with a _don’t you work here?_ He was leaning over Aaron where he sat, backlit by the warm pub lights, their own private bubble buffeted by pub chatter in a way that made Aaron feel private but not hidden. It was nice. Really nice.

“Hungry?” Robert inquired, and Aaron indulged in a moment of sliding his eyes down Robert’s throat, across his chest, down further where his shirt became hips and thighs. He flicked his gaze back up to Robert’s eyes again, smirked and licked his lips. Robert’s eyes darkened at the attention, and Aaron breathed in, hoping to catch that scent again.

“Starving,” he said.

\--

They were halfway through their meal when Katie and Andy came in, and Aaron wasn’t sure what to do. He watched Robert notice them, watched his hands tighten around his cutlery.

“Y’alright?” Robert didn’t respond, so Aaron jokingly signed _hello_ at him, something he’d picked up being around Leo. Robert seemed to snap back into focus at the movement, raised a questioning eyebrow. “I said are you okay?”

“Fine,” Robert said, harshly, then at Aaron’s unimpressed look, filed the edges off. “It’s fine.”

“We could… go somewhere else, or sommat,” Aaron grumbled, begrudging himself even as he said it. He meant it, when he told Robert they weren’t going to be a secret. Secrets came out of shame and Aaron wasn’t ashamed anymore and he wasn’t going to act like he was for someone else’s idea of a quieter life.

“Well, as sincerely as you meant that,” Robert said, wryly, “no. No outs.”

Aaron pushed out his bottom lip, looked down at his plate and nodded.

“Alright.”

“Alright,” Robert repeated, putting on a lower, gruffer voice and teasing out a small smile from Aaron. “So…sign language. ‘Nother thing you can do with your hands, eh?”

\--

Andy and Katie stayed in their corner, and Aaron almost forgot about them entirely. He’d finished his meal ahead of Robert, and was watching him polish off the last of his own. He was making a bit of a show of it, closing his lips slowly around dainty forkfuls, pulling back off the fork slowly. He was a menace of a different class.

“You’re such a prat,” Aaron muttered.

“You like it,” Robert said, confidence unshaken when he finally lowered his fork, crossing it with his knife on the emptied plate. Aaron looked at his own plate, cutlery strewn haphazardly and the paper napkin scrunched into a ball and left on top. “Not with you for your manners,” Robert said.

Aaron bit his lip on a smile, reached for his pint.

“So why are you?” he asked, immediately wishing for a rewind button. Robert huffed a little, but Aaron figured he was in for a penny now, and kept his gaze steady.

“Not like you to fish,” Robert purred.

“Not fishin’. Wondering.” Aaron had been on dates with a fair few blokes, but struggled to connect a lot of the time. He didn’t have the patience to pretend to care about what they were talking about, or the finesse to make conversational compromises. It didn’t feel like that with Robert. Aaron wasn’t _putting the time in_ , he was enjoying passing the time. Sometimes Robert talked about his role selling agricultural machinery when he worked for Chrissie’s father, and as little as Aaron was interested in the information, he’d keep listening. Because there was still the look of genuine pride when Robert recounted the details of a particular deal, or how if he was feeling uninhibited enough, he’d do a voice impression of some posh arsehole he dealt with on the phone. How ambition had curled claws over Robert’s shoulders and wouldn’t let go, how it fed the hope in his eyes that one day he could _build_ something.

Aaron couldn’t give a flying fuck about tractors. But he’d listen for those other details, watch for those subtler communications.

He wanted to know if Robert thought something similar about him. If Aaron’s bad table manners and general uncouth way of existing gave way to something Robert liked about him, the way Robert’s boring business stories gave way for Aaron.

“What’s brought this on?”

Aaron shrugged, embarrassed at his own forthright _need_.

Robert smiled into his pint, obviously contemplating something when his expression changed. Aaron watched, puzzled, as the smile dropped away and Robert rolled his eyes. Seeing Aaron’s questioning glance he darted his eyes off to the right.

“Prize winning arsehole, two o’clock.”

Aaron looked over in time to catch Ross’ eye as he stalked across the pub, angry gaze fixed on Aaron. Aaron closed his own eyes, falling further back into his chair, head lolling back, only straightening up when Ross drew closer.

“There he is,” Ross announced, stopping beside their table. “Job thief.”

“I didn’t steal nowt, mate, you fucked it up and Cain needed someone he could depend on.” Aaron looked across the table at Robert, now wearing his own questioning look, and Aaron offered him a tug of the mouth which he hoped communicated _later._

“Ooh, and how lucky you just happened to be waiting by the phone,” Ross said, batting his lashes and putting on an effete voice.

“Just do one, Ross. Pub’s for grown ups yeah? You want to have a tantrum do it somewhere else.”

“I second that!” Charity called over from the bar, making it abundantly clear that the entire Woolie was listening in. Not that Ross was trying to be quiet about it.

“That was quick,” he remarked. “Someone already leaping to your defence, eh?”

“Charity doesn’t leap,” Robert cut in, waving a hand. “She…saunters.”

“Y’know I don’t half mind that,” Charity said, delighted. She mouthed, wide and exaggerated, _saunters._

“Why don’t you keep your neb out of it,” Ross sneered at Robert. He looked at Aaron, nodding in Robert’s direction, pushing his lip out and mocking. “New boyfriend?”

Aaron glanced at Robert, remembered Katie and Andy over at the bar. Charity caught Aaron’s eye, her eyes wide and curious. Aaron stood, and the air in the pub went stiff as he squared up to Ross. They were standing close to each other, practically nose to nose, hate pouring off them both in waves.

“Aaron,” Robert said, quietly, slowly standing up out of his own chair. “Not worth it, is he?”

“Nah mate,” Aaron said, keeping eye contact with Ross. “Not worth it at all.” The pub door swung open and Pete waded in, sighing when he caught sight of Ross.

“What’s the matter with you, eh?” he shot at his brother.

“S’good question that, in’t it?” Aaron said, still addressing Ross. “Because if you really cared about that job so much, you’d have just been where you were supposed to be, right? So what’s this really about, Ross?”

Aaron planted his feet wider, chest out and fronting. He pouted, narrowing his eyes with false sympathy, and barely lowered his voice to speak with a confidential air.

“Still upset that our Debbie blew you out big style before she went away?” A nerve ticked in Ross’ jaw, and Aaron grinned. “That’s it, in’t it. Well, tell you what.” Aaron reached into his back pocket, Pete taking a step forward, obviously thinking Ross was about to get the kicking he was owed. Aaron pulled out his wallet, thoroughly enjoying the confusion crumpling Ross’ brow, and peeled out a fiver. He slapped it to Ross’ chest.

“Here,” he said, narrowing to his pointer finger, dead centre of Ross’ sternum. “Go get yourself a nice sock to wank into and stop mithering at me.”

He pushed Ross back.

“You – “

“Leave us _alone,_ Ross. You’re boring.” Aaron sat down, kicking an ankle up onto his knee and leaning back, relaxed, one arm resting beside his dinner plate on the table. Robert sat back down too, looking at Aaron with something Aaron couldn’t decode for the life of him.

“He’s going,” Pete said, grabbing Ross’ shoulder, trying to shepherd him away. But some glitter in Ross’ eye caught the light – he was an idiot, but one of the worst kind. A cruel one. And he knew a weak link when he saw it, and Aaron figured it out too late to sidestep.

“ _Us_?” Ross said, pointedly. He looked between Aaron and Robert, a sneering grin giving way to crowing. “ _Us_. You’re well in there, Robert.”

There was a long pause, and Aaron could feel the weight of the pub’s eyes on them, could imagine the weight doubled on Robert’s shoulders. Aaron opened his mouth, not equipped for a better save than _jog on before I knock your teeth out_ , when Robert leaned forward, elbows on the table. He smiled, just shy of too sharp, and with enough sparkle in his eyes to make up the difference.

“You reckon?” he asked Ross, finally. Ross blinked, and Robert turned to face Aaron. Aaron watched as Robert reached across the table, and determinedly, with a shake Aaron couldn’t see but could feel against his skin, stroked a finger over the back of Aaron’s hand.

“What about you?” Robert flirted. “You reckon I’m in there?”

Aaron swallowed, eyes roving wild over every inch of Robert’s face.

“Well in,” Aaron said, a touch quieter, trying to take the moment back for just them.

Ross gawped, still lingering by their table like a bad smell. “Hang about. I thought – “

“I’m what you might call an equal opportunities employer,” Robert cut across him. Still a little too skittish for labels, but Aaron could have burst his heart with pride at the dismissive tone he wafted in Ross’ direction.

“Eh?”

“I like both,” Robert said, like he was struggling to communicate simple concepts to a slab of rock. He flashed eyes at Aaron, “I like _him._ And I’d like you to go away, you’re creating an atmosphere.”

Pete just about managed to guide Ross elsewhere, but Aaron wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at Robert, who was smiling. Soft, pink lipped, genuine, a high flush on his cheeks. Then cheeky, like a switch flipped. “Brilliant. Charity!” he called over his shoulder. “Can we settle up? Think Aaron and I’ll go elsewhere for dessert.”

“Rude,” said Charity, but with a smile. “We do dessert here.”

They both got up from the table, and Aaron nearly collided with Robert when he turned to whisper. His eyes drifted down Aaron’s chest, back up to his mouth, then eyes.

“Thought I’d order off menu.”

Aaron followed him. Kept following him.

After that, might follow him anywhere.

\--

Robert was pacing in front of the couch in the backroom.

Being brave and a bit of an arsehole had been a split second, natural, not-very-thought-out decision, and almost as soon as they were out of sight of the murmuring pubgoers, he…not regretted it. But _something_ ed it. He felt _something_ about it, and couldn’t quite figure out what that was.

Hence, the pacing.

“Can’t believe I told you that telling someone might be a good move, and you managed to pick _Ross._ ” Robert snorted. Aaron had a point.

“I just wanted to shut him up,” Robert said. “His face is just – “ Robert made a scrunching gesture with his fists, pressing his lips together and invoking total repulsion.

“So, how’d you feel?” Aaron asked him, burying a quiet laugh. Robert looked over to him, where he sat on the kitchen table, legs dangling free.

“How did you? When you…”

“Came out,” Aaron finished, in the same tone that a busybody parent might say to their teen _if you can’t say it you shouldn’t be doing it_. “Well I half came out by trying to top myself, and came out the rest of the way in a courtroom so. Complicated. I felt complicated. But okay, mostly. I think.” Aaron crinkled his nose, looking up, thoughtfully. “It feels like a really long time ago now, it’s far away. But this in’t about me.”

Robert nodded and considered, the adrenaline still pumping through him in a wash of energy.

“I feel…” he started, uncertain where his mouth was going with his mind just along for the ride. “Massive.” _Like I could touch the ceiling of the world and not even bother with tip toes._ “Uncomfortable, a bit. Exposed.” Aaron nodded, face neutral and open. Listening. There were so many other things he felt, but couldn’t list them all aloud. _Pissed. Itchy. Like I just made good on my dad’s disappointment. Like my skin’s too big and too small at once but either way there’s room for you – scared. Scared._ Robert crossed the space between them, standing in front of Aaron’s knees. He sat with a slouch, and Robert moved in closer still, Aaron’s legs parting to make space for him. Robert looked at him, breathed in, smelled whatever cheap scent he’d doused himself in and found he didn’t mind it. Didn’t mind it at all. He raised both hands to Aaron’s face, let his mouth go soft and voice drip from it honey slow. “Like I want my dessert.”

Aaron’s eyebrows lifted as Robert kissed him and Robert laughed under his breath, their kisses sloppy and uncoordinated as the adrenaline dwindled, but still so, so much more than Robert had ever had before.

“Reckon you deserve it then, is it?” Aaron muttered against his mouth.

“Ate all my veggies,” Robert plied. Aaron tipped his head back, eyed Robert’s mouth in the way that made him shudder with want. Robert nuzzled in closer, catching and releasing Aaron’s mouth, feeling the brush of his beard.

“Plank,” Aaron mumbled, Robert swallowing any further insults, nibbling lightly at the sensitive skin of Aaron’s bottom lip before diving in for a full and proper kiss.

There was a knock at the door.

“Occupied!” Robert raised his voice, still mostly attached to Aaron. The door opened anyway, and Charity came in, as close to sheepish as she ever got.

“Soz,” she said. “I tried to stop them, so y’know. Points to me and all that.” Charity moved to the side, and Katie and Andy sidled in past her. Aaron squeezed Robert’s arm where he held it and then let his touch fall away. Robert took a step back, and faced them as Charity backed out of the room, leaving time for her last word, “Besides, you’ve got a room for your canoodling needs, it’s a family home this.”

“It’s a pub,” Robert said, dryly, taking a little strength from the normality of Charity giving him a ribbing. “And I’m sure Noah’s seen worse living with you.”

“Good thing he’s at Samson’s and we don’t have to test that theory,” Charity shot back, tone light but a softening of her brow that let him read the _good luck_ buried under it all. She closed the door after her and the silence in the backroom was a palpable thing, another person standing among them. Though Robert would be pressed to know on whose side.

“So,” Andy said. “The person you told Vic about, does she know it’s…”

“Aaron,” Aaron picked up the end of the sentence, rocking between the heels and balls of his feet. “You’ve known me a few years Andy, thought you had a firm hold of my name.”

“Yeah, I – I do, it’s just a bit of surprise. Is all.” Andy looked between them, and Robert steadied his breathing.

“Yeah, she does.” Robert forced himself to relax his shoulders. “Is that it, because we’re in the middle of sommat – or,” Robert corrected himself. “We were about to be.”

“Sorry, are we all just meant to stand here and believe this?” Katie interjected, gesturing at Robert with a flat palm. “You’re seeing _Aaron_?”

Aaron pulled a face. “Right. Bit harsh, but the feeling’s mutual.”

“I just mean – it’s obviously a stunt, or, or, some sick headgame.”

“Obviously,” Robert said. “I couldn’t just fancy him, no?”

“No!”

“Again,” Aaron said. “Bit harsh.”

“What’s your mum said about this?” Katie shot back, addressing Aaron fully, her eyes leaving Robert for the first time.

Aaron looked wrong footed for the first time, and as Robert noticed it Katie did too. She raised her eyebrows, putting her weight into one hip and leaning back, sceptical. Then haughty, as realisation dawned. “You’ve not told her.”

“Not yet, no.” Aaron crossed his arms, face serious. Robert was concentrating on the strong lines of him, rather than looking at Andy. “And neither will you.”

“See! You know it’s not real, what he’s doing – “

“What _we’re_ doing – “ Aaron interjected.

“- or else you wouldn’t care if she knew. She has a right to know, Aaron.”

“Eh, no. I haven’t told her because every time I so much as glance at a bloke she’s down my throat and on my case. Between her and prison, it’s the first time in a while I’ve gotten to run my own life, yeah? Sorry I didn’t want to immediately piss that chance up the wall.”

“He’ll break your heart,” Katie said, changing tack. “He doesn’t know what love is.”

Robert gritted his teeth, looked down and away, tapped his finger against his leg. He didn’t say anything though, and when he looked back, Aaron met his eye, clear and blue and fierce. He answered Katie angrily.

“Why, just because he broke yours once? Or because you broke his. You were kids, let it go.”

“Oh here we go,” Katie threw her hands up. “What version of everything did he give you, one where he’s the victim, I’m sure.”

Aaron pushed his mouth up in a frown, shaking his head slowly. “Might surprise you to hear it, but we don’t really talk about you at all.” Katie’s mouth opened, forehead pinched. “Funny that, seeing as you have nowt to do with it.”

“Aaron – “

“I think,” Andy said, cutting diplomatically across his wife. “I think what Katie’s saying is that we’re…concerned. Look, Aaron, we’ve been mates a long time, and we remember how much you’ve – you’ve been through.” Robert eyed Aaron’s hands where they bunched in fists, collecting the fabric of his sleeves and clenching. “After Jackson – “

“If you wanted me to lamp you one you could’ve just asked.”

“Mate,” Andy sighed, and any other time Robert probably gotten a delighted buzz off of the step he took backwards, the borderline wild card parts of Aaron on full display, curling off him like steam. “We’re just looking out for you.”

“And what about Robert, eh? Who’s looking out for him, while his own family’s busting down the door to warn me off him, and this one calling him a liar,” Aaron waved a finger at Katie, and Robert watched, rooted to the spot.

“He _is_ a liar,” Katie insisted.

“Not about this, he’s not,” Aaron shot back. Everything about him was singing out _don’t push me._ His voice was accusing as he said Andy’s name, to no response but a lacklustre shrug, a confused and shaking head.

“You couldn’t just say you support him, no?” Aaron said, moving quickly and getting up in Andy’s face. The picture frames on the wall rattled as Aaron shoved Andy back, Andy too surprised to react. “Y’know people round here are pretty quick to look down their noses at my family but one thing I can say for them is the only one who reacted this bad when I came out was the one who beat his kids and spent most of his time blind drunk. What’re your excuses, eh?” Robert stood with his mouth agape for a few moments before snapping out of his disconnect to pull Aaron back by the shoulder. “Couldn’t just say you love him, or you’re proud or owt. Y’know, being his sodding brother?”

Andy looked in Robert’s direction, confusion twisting his face as his good deed was summarily rejected. Aaron looked furious, and Robert felt nothing. He just wanted them to go.

“Do one,” Aaron said, reading his mind. “Both of you.”

“Robert,” Andy tried. Robert shook his head. The snap of their dad’s leather belt would be a sound only Robert got to hear, buried deep in the place where honesty felt like a kind of queasiness, and family was a broken promise. Robert couldn’t decide if this was better than he imagined it might go – the scenarios he’d envisioned so brutal and heartrending, scenarios to keep him clinging to a false shadow of himself – or worse, because it was real.

“Like Aaron said,” Robert summoned up a last glare. “Do one.”

\--

Robert could see Aaron shifting uncomfortably by the kettle as he made their brews. It was an unusual role reversal, Robert sitting stonily and silent while Aaron busied himself, made careful attempts at conversation. The spoons twinkled and Aaron cleared his throat.

“So,” he said, setting the tea down and sitting next to Robert on the couch, not touching, but close enough to. “Food was good. You came out, I nearly kicked your brother’s head in. I know I said I didn’t make much of this _romancin’_ lark but this – “

“Don’t – “ Robert swallowed, throat clicking. “Don’t. It’s not…”

Aaron paused. Tentatively, he laid a hand on Robert’s thigh. A gentle pressure for a wounded animal. “I know.”

They stayed like that for a few moments, Robert beaming instructions at his hand to take Aaron’s, but the signal getting lost somewhere. He couldn’t move towards comfort, couldn’t crawl out of the dark for the bright.

“Why don’t we stick a film on,” Aaron suggested. Robert shrugged, and Aaron nodded. He got off the couch and crouched in front of TV cabinet, flicking through the unsorted mess of DVDs inside. If Robert didn’t already know he was feeling off it would have been cemented by his quiet interest in the slope of Aaron’s spine, and how though he was still himself enough to check out Aaron’s arse, he was out of sorts enough to let the moment pass without comment.

DVD set up, Aaron turned off the lights, and was standing in front of the couch again by the time the menu screen lit up _A New Hope._

Robert blinked. “Thought you didn’t like _Star Wars_?”

“You do, though,” Aaron said blithely, sitting down and leaving space again, probably taking his cue from Robert’s lack of contact. Robert looked at his profile, cast in deep shadows and high peaks of light from the telly, and felt something give.

“What you doing all the way over there, then?” he murmured. Aaron turned his head, and smiled, small but genuine. He moved to sit so they were one long connected line, wriggling and shifting until they ended up with Aaron’s arm slung around Robert’s shoulders, and Robert sunk low into the cushions, head tilted over to rest on Aaron in turn.

The music started.

\--

When the film finished Robert felt Aaron’s eyes on him and straightened himself up slowly. Aaron rolled his shoulder, free of the weight, and stretched his arms up high, popping the bones in his mid spine, his neck. Robert winced at the harsh sound, but enjoyed the view, the way Aaron’s back arched and the muscles of his arms flexed. It wasn’t a suit, but that was certainly a well chosen jumper. Aaron flopped back against the couch, then cast a testing eye over in Robert’s direction.

Robert leaned over him, reaching one hand up to Aaron’s neck to keep him where Robert wanted him, and Aaron allowed it, tipping up for the kiss. Robert loved how he did that. He could front it out with the best of them, and sometimes actually turned away, but when Aaron wanted Robert’s mouth on his he was never quite content to just let it happen. He was always there, just before the touch, to meet Robert. It was a quiet kind of kiss, sweet. A thank you? Robert felt so mixed up, though returning to an old favourite and a classic had helped to settle him. Grounding and familiar. Not to mention Robert had always thought Han and Luke had a kind of… _vibe._

Suddenly Robert wanted all of Aaron opened up to him, the same way Aaron had obviously burrowed his way into Robert. Robert couldn’t remember being defended like that since – ever? He left what was sweet behind and slid his tongue along Aaron’s lips. It wasn’t a quiet kiss anymore.

Robert tightened his fingers against the back of Aaron’s neck, tugging him closer, and Aaron rested his hand on Robert’s leg, tracing the inseam of Robert’s jeans with the very tips of his fingers and leaving buzzing tracks of ghostly sensation behind. Robert could stay on this ugly couch in the pub back room forever, if Aaron kept letting him _take_ this way, like Aaron’s lungs held the only air in the room. Robert slung his leg the rest of the way over Aaron’s lap, kissing down into Aaron’s mouth, not losing a second of it as he moved. Aaron was breathing harder now, getting harder in general, fingers digging ten little divots into the muscle of Robert’s thighs.

“We should – “ Aaron managed to gasp out, escaping Robert’s onslaught. “We should go upstairs.”

Robert stopped. Pulled his head back.

“You want to?” Robert asked. Aaron snorted, ran his hands up Robert’s thighs, coiled his fingers into the belt loops on his jeans. Something pulsed, low in the cradle of Robert’s hips, a flush burning down below his collar.

“Course,” Aaron said.

Robert stared down at him, lifting one hand to Aaron’s face. Aaron let him, curiosity spilling like paint, his beard a welcome texture against Robert’s palm. Robert scanned his face, travelling in smooth paths. He was wearing a blush as well, mouth shiny, eyes blown out. Robert would curl up in the bow of that top lip and never leave if Aaron let him.

“After everything they said?” Robert asked, a humourless huff escaping. “Still?”

Aaron paused, and Robert could see a shift in his expression but didn’t have the tools to decipher it. Aaron took the hand Robert was resting on his face and traced lines on his palm. Robert knew Aaron’s reputation in the village. Thug. Firestarter. Gang member. Rough and unpredictable. But he stroked with a light touch, sweeping up Robert’s fingers one by one. He was gentle underneath. When he was allowed to be.

“I believe you,” Aaron said, honest like a bell and directed at Robert’s hands. “When you say you ain’t interested in messing me about. Don’t ask why – I don’t know, I just. Trust you, or sommat.”

Robert swallowed. Absorbed. Bloomed, ribs out, heart flopping its way to an escape hatch it wouldn’t find.

Aaron looked up.

Robert kissed him. Didn’t know how not to.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they have sex in this one, and it's probably way too much. i've embarrassed myself a bit with this one, but here it is anyway
> 
> also ty so much to everyone who left such nice comments/sent kind messages on tumblr after the last chapter. it means a lot to me to know people are enjoying it, especially in such Trying Times at Robron High

They stumbled into the bedroom, having only just survived the stairs, Robert booting the door shut behind them. They kicked off their shoes, peeled out of socks, and with Robert’s belt unclasped and Aaron’s jumper making a quick getaway, they fell onto the bed.

Aaron yanked his head back, saving them both from clacking teeth, and they shuffled until Aaron was on top of Robert, hips aligned. Aaron opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by his phone going off in his pocket. He pulled it out, flicking down the toolbar with his breaths still coming hard, the kiss-drunk smile still on his face and blurrily reflected in the screen.

It was a text from Cain.

“Oh sorry, have you got a better offer?” Robert said, sounding more than a bit put out. Aaron looked down at him, laid out long between Aaron’s knees, diagonal across the twin bed. He looked like something Aaron might have daydreamed about when he was too in denial to commit to internet searches. His hair was fluffed up into a mess from Aaron’s hands sneaking up to rake through it, his shirt twisted so the collar was off centre, the hem going the other way altogether. His cheeks were pink, eyes dark and heavy. Aaron tossed his phone on the bedside table.

“Not likely,” Aaron said, and leaned down, unbuttoning Robert’s shirt and laying wet, open kisses against his skin where each button used to be. Slowly, he revealed swathes of skin, the planes of Robert’s chest and abdomen a map he wanted to explore every inch of. At the final button, Aaron parted Robert’s shirt, let it fall to either side of him and ran his hand up Robert from belt to bottom lip before following it, stealing a few short kisses.

He ground his hips into Robert’s, and they both breathed out shakily, feeling each other through their clothes.

“What do you want?” Aaron asked, still rocking his hips in small, helpless pulses. This desperation – he felt like a teenager, the kind he never got to be, his own youth a set of dominoes, secret shame tipping into pain tipping into freedom into misery. Nothing good lasted long and Aaron was going to take every second of this he could get.

“First,” Robert said, on the edge of panting, skimming his hands under the hem of Aaron’s tshirt and pulling it up and off over his head, “To get you out of this fetching ensemble.”

“Halfway there,” Aaron remarked, reaching between them to undo his own belt.

“Spread you out for me,” Robert said, mouth brushing Aaron’s cheek, his neck, as they both struggled to get out of their clothes. Aaron laughed when Robert’s arm got stuck in the sleeve of his shirt, and he rolled off him so they could both shuck their jeans and underwear. Before he could climb on top of Robert again, Robert was caging him in, long body pressed to Aaron’s, their cocks grazing together in a delicious tease. Aaron’s belly caved in a sharp jab, the breath stolen from him at the contact. Robert palmed his ribs, splaying his hand wide and dragging it down Aaron’s side and stopping just below his hip.

“Want to get my fingers inside you.” Aaron swallowed, everything in his body turned on, tuned in. He heard the sticky, wet sound of his own lips parting, felt Robert’s leg hair brush against his own, making static, adding to the thrum. “Open you up. Fuck you.”

Aaron chanced a glance into Robert’s eyes, still heavy but bright. So green in the dim, mellow lamplight of Robert’s room. Aaron had only ever looked at himself and seen the mess he knew himself to be. Under Robert’s gaze he felt like there could be some hidden art there, something his own eyes weren’t trained to see.

Aaron bobbed his shoulders in a shrug. “Reckon I could cope with that.”

“Reckon – “ Robert laughed. Properly, surprised and loud, and Aaron dipped his chin to his chest, full of pride. There was no greater high, he was sure, than making Robert Sugden laugh.

\--

Turned out being proven wrong felt pretty good. Robert had laid Aaron out as promised, tucked a pillow under his hips, and spent the last twenty minutes taking Aaron apart with his beautiful, long, diabolic fingers.

Now _that._ That was a high.

“That’s it,” Robert said, coaxingly, stroking up the outside of Aaron’s hip as he pumped two fingers slowly in and out of him, kneeling in the space he had made for himself between Aaron’s legs.

“Stop talking to me like I’m a sodding horse,” Aaron said, breathing deep, twisting his hands in the sheets and feeling every touch inside like an electric shock.

“You buck like one,” Robert teased, then pulled his hand back, pushing a third finger inside. Aaron closed his eyes tight, ground down, his pelvis tilting down so steeply Robert’s hand had nowhere to go but deeper. Aaron moaned, quiet and desperate, rolling his hips and biting his lip hard as he took Robert’s fingers again and again.

Robert wasn’t the first man to get his fingers inside Aaron, but he was the first one to do it for its own sake. Before, it had only been a means of prep, enjoyable but not the main event. Every event was the main event with Robert, and the way he massaged Aaron’s prostate, stretched Aaron’s rim and got him sloppy and impatient for it – he had his eyes set on gold.

Robert extended himself, rocking forward so he was on all fours over Aaron, one hand planted on the bed next to Aaron’s shoulder. Aaron reached up, looping his arms around Robert’s neck to pull him down into a kiss, craning his neck up to help close the distance. It was mostly tongue, too uncoordinated, totally liquefying. The angle of Robert’s hand changed, forced a loud _ah_ out of Aaron. He fell back to the bed, pushing down against Robert’s fingers again.

Robert’s strained murmurings fell on him from above.

“You look incredible,” he said, arm flexing as he pulled back and pushed forward, over and over, bending down to press haphazard kisses to Aaron’s bare shoulder, lips hot and wanting. “Fucking yourself on my fingers.”

“Well if you’re not gonna do it,” Aaron groaned, head tossed back. He planted his feet so he could move freer, but was defeated by Robert’s frame so close above him.

“You want me to?”

“I don’t do begging,” Aaron growled. Robert smirked, lit up like a warning sign. Keep out. Danger. He rocked back to kneeling, scooting back a bit, only a few seconds of Aaron missing his heat above him before Robert’s lips were closing around the head of Aaron’s cock.

“Robert,” Aaron said, “Robert, don’t, I – “

“What?” Robert said, pulling off, stroking idly at Aaron’s cock, slowly pulling his fingers out of Aaron’s arse and making Aaron’s eyes roll back. “ _Please_?”

Aaron dropped his knees, hooking his heels around the base of Robert’s spine and yanking. Robert all but fell on him, only just catching himself, face hovering over Aaron’s and bodies pressed together cock to chest. Aaron dug his heels in, increased the pressure.

“Fuck me,” he said.

Robert kissed him, cocks sliding alongside each other for a few strokes before he was nodding, spilling nonsensical mumblings as he grabbed a condom, rolling it on and tugging at himself a few times as he looked down at Aaron. Aaron blushed as Robert’s gaze traced his chest, his stomach, smeared wet with pre-come. Without looking he grabbed the liberally used lube, getting himself glossy before lining up and pressing in with a few slow pulses, filling Aaron up gradually.

Robert kissed him as he rocked in and out, and Aaron carded his fingers up into Robert’s hair from the back of his neck. Their breathing grew ragged, timed together, Robert more or less lying on top of Aaron with Aaron’s legs holding him close, feeling Robert’s arse flex each time he pushed inside. They were nose to nose, breathing each other in, Aaron’s vision full of pink and gold and freckles. Flash of green, drawn out moan. Snatches of words, like _you feel amazing_ and _look at me, look at me._

They grew sweaty as they fucked, the hair at Robert’s temples damp with it, Aaron’s collar bone and chest dewy. This felt different to anything he’d done before. More. It was intense, Robert looking down into Aaron’s eyes with every move inside him and Aaron’s breath just a dream he was chasing.

It was too much, that was the truth of it. It was the kind of feeling that the survival part of his brain should be urging Aaron to get away from. Too good. Something he’d give anything for, something to light him up and keep him burning. Robert’s mouth was open and soft, bitten to the exact halfway point between pink and red, wet around little _ah_ sounds that made Aaron roll his own hips to meet him, knees picked up high by Robert’s ribs. Robert’s lashes fluttered on a moan and Aaron’s heart thudded, a check engine light going on. When Robert opened his eyes again, Aaron tilted up his chin and Robert answered the silent plea there, licking into Aaron’s mouth, driving deeper with his cock, reaching down to stroke Aaron’s as everything intensified, got too big for their bones.

Aaron wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t being consumed by this.

 _They_ were.

\--

Aaron woke with a start in the middle of the night, thinking two things. One, the weight of Robert’s arm around his waist and the soft puffs of air at the back of his neck were a reason to wake up in an of themselves. Two, he forgot to read Cain’s text before he fell asleep.

Gingerly, Aaron reached for his phone, and squinting into the lit up screen, rolled down the notification.

 **Cain:** job on tomorrow night. less hr for nye. come to butlers in the morning stuff to sort. delete this

Aaron did as he was told, deleting the text and eyeing the time with a wince. 3.12AM. Which meant tomorrow was today.

The sheets rustled and the hand resting on Aaron’s belly pressed with more intention.

“Time s’it?” Robert mumbled. He stroked up and down Aaron’s torso, warm palm wide and encompassing. Aaron leaned his back into Robert’s chest.

“Past three, go back to sleep,” Aaron said.

“You go back to sleep,” Robert said, childishly. Aaron huffed. “Y’alright?”

Aaron smiled. Tomorrow didn’t have to be today just yet. He slid his hand up to meet Robert’s, twined their fingers against Aaron’s chest.

Let that be the answer.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron does Cain a favour and Robert works a pub shift. It's New Year's Eve, and it all goes wrong before midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wee warning for violence - it's not v graphic though

“You alright mate?” Adam asked, giving Aaron a little sideways punch on the arm. It was late evening, New Year’s Eve, and Aaron was crouched in the back of a big fuck-off removal truck Cain had sourced, dressed as a repo man. There were things he’d rather be doing, if he was honest. If he was very honest, one thing.

Aaron had left Robert sleeping that morning, loathe to wake him when he was so still, when he hadn’t had to wake up and remember the events of the night before yet. He’d left a note, a hastily scribbled afterthought, on the counter next to the kettle so that when Robert eventually dragged himself from bed for a brew, he’d find it there. Aaron had hesitated over the note – or, not so much the note as the sign off he’d scrawled, without thinking.

_Aaron x_

He’d stood staring at it, tracing the two flicking lines, somehow more personal than in a text. It was as vulnerable a mark as any of the ones Robert had left on his body the night before.

Aaron had left the note anyway, despite his misgivings. He was probably overthinking it, imagining Robert, bleary eyed and draped in his dressing gown, darting his eyes over it briefly and dismissively before slipping it into the bin for the tea-obstacle it was.

Aaron was definitely overthinking it.

“Is it Robert?”

Aaron looked over at Adam. It wasn’t the best place for a private conversation, crammed in the truck with ten other Saints in similar uniforms, but beggars can’t be choosers. Aaron nodded.

“Heard what happened at the Woolie, man,” Adam shook his head sympathetically. “Brutal.”

“You don’t know the half of it, mate,” Aaron said, dropping his voice a bit, Pete and Finn down the opposite end of the truck. He’d figured the thing with Ross would be all over the village by now, but he filled Adam in on Katie and Andy’s having-a-go-sesh. Adam whistled.

“I knew sommat had gone down, but – “

“Eh?”

“They showed up at Vic’s, must have been straight after. Said some stuff, Vic kicked right off at them, she was proper upset. Like sleeping next to a sodding log flume last night.”

“Crying?”

“And the rest. Thrashing about n’all. She hates when the family fights. Honestly think she might be a little weirded out to be more on Robert’s side for a change.”

“Yeah?” Adam nodded grimly.

“Can you hens stop your clucking and concentrate?” Cain shot in their direction, browline severe. Adam pulled a _yikes_ face at Aaron and they suppressed giggles. Not for the first time Aaron wondered what it would’ve been like if he’d had Adam back when they were both small. Getting separated from sitting next to each other at school, kick abouts after. It was a strange feeling, regretting time that hadn’t been spent. He supposed at the end of the day it didn’t matter all that much. He’d go to the ends of the earth for Adam, the amount of years behind it barely made a dent of difference.

The truck pulled to a stop, then did some laboriously slow turning to line up with the doors. The rationale for pulling the job today was that there would be less Hellraisers on site for New Years, maybe only two or three watching the building’s entrances. The key difference being that now the next-door warehouse was emptied of stock and the heavy machinery that used to block the adjoining doors for the facilities, there would be an entrance the Hellraisers weren’t counting on. The repo men disguises were precautionary. The rival gang would be used to seeing similar uniforms over the last few days, and shouldn’t think anything was amiss, not even with a night run of the place. Repossession was essentially sanctioned burglary, no one expected them to keep regular hours.

The engine cut and the roll up opened. One of the Saints tossed another a bolt cutter, and they quickly made their way into the empty facility. The bolt cutters made swift work of the last locks on the adjoining doors as well, and five or so Saints spread out into the Hellraiser’s warehouse to grab anything that looked worth nicking. Or re-nicking, as it were. Pete and Finn were doing look out rounds, and the work was done quickly and quietly. Adam and Aaron split off together for their task.

They searched among the roughly sorted gear for a motors section. Cain had decided against the cars – in the full frontal assault they planned before they had been the main target, big risk for big payout. But with a stealthy approach like this, they were better off going after motorcycles. Another good reason for Aaron to have come along.

“Scope out the best, either for riding or breakdown and flogging,” Cain told him that morning in the planning meeting, details getting finalised. “We can wheel them to the connecting doors and straight onto the truck with the rest of the stuff and they won’t need revving to do it. Quieter than a tart at confession, you get me? No risks.”

“No risks,” Aaron repeatedly dutifully, but with raised eyebrows just to be contrary.

“Aaron,” Adam whispered, and pointed over to a row of gleaming bikes. They were closer to the front of the warehouse, and Aaron peered carefully to check they weren’t about to bump into a Hellraiser on guard duty, but seeing no one, they took their chance. Aaron scurried over and crouched down at each for a look at what they were working with, and singled a few out to Adam. Between them, they pushed five bikes out of the Hellraiser’s warehouse, and into Cain’s waiting hands. Cain checked his watch.

“Ten more minutes, then we’re out with what we’ve got, right?”

Aaron peered into the truck, caught the gleam of TV screens, stacks of computer boxes and consoles from floor to roof of the thing, booze – mostly whiskies. There was a massive crate of cigarettes that must have been taken straight from customs – probably a badly guarded airport storage or a bent cutoms officer - that had Aaron salivating for a smoke, the way it sometimes crept up on him.

“Time for one more bike then, eh lad?” Adam slapped Aaron’s shoulder, and they headed back to the Hellraisers warehouse. Aaron nudged in the kick stand of their last take, Adam grabbing the other handlebar when they both paused. Aaron looked at Adam, who was looking back at Aaron with similar confusion. There was noise. Commotion, growing louder. Yelling.

“Fuck,” Aaron breathed. “Go, go, sommat’s not right.”

Which was of course the natural point at which to see Ross Barton legging it past them, still prat enough to flip them a jaunty salute. Aaron traced the direction he was running in.

“Absolute fucking liability,” Aaron said, frustration gathering in clouds around him. Ross was ruining everything. Again.

“He’s going for the cars, in’t he?”

“He’s not even meant to be here!” Aaron said.

“None of you are meant to be here,” said another voice. Aaron turned just in time to get a full fist to the face. He could feel the skin over his eyebrow split apart, and he reeled back as another goon took a pop at Adam. The two Hellraisers were fuming, hopped up on being done over. Thankfully there was only the two, or at least only two for Aaron and Adam to fight. They both paired off, embroiled in their separate fist fights, Aaron giving as good as he got, shot for shot. His Hellraiser opponent was bigger than him though, had huge arms and a wide barrel chest, Aaron spending most of his time dodging those massive sledgehammer fists. If this big fecker got a solid enough hit on him Aaron might not have the wind left in him to get up again. Aaron was starting to puff as it was. When they got close, both with fists up - boxing training behind their stances and so at least evenly matched in that respect - Aaron did what he learned in prison.

Something unexpected.

He dropped his weight down low, scuttled forward and hugged the huge bloke’s knees until he lost balance. Aaron pushed up from his legs, putting all his weight into tipping the man over, sending him flying and domino-scattering the remaining bikes in the row.

Aaron turned to see how Adam was faring. Adam turned at the noise of the bikes falling.

His lip was split, and there was blood under his nose, but the other guy looked much the same, wiping the blood off his face with his sleeve.

What happened next happened quickly. Too quickly to think, to strategise, to do anything but act.

A flash of silver. The Hellraiser moved. Aaron bolted for Adam, shoved him as hard as he could, Adam’s face a rictus of surprise as he was knocked off his feet and onto the warehouse’s concrete floor a few feet sideways.

Aaron’s belly caved in, air gone, sound gone.

He looked at the Hellraiser, saw the fear in the other man’s eyes. Aaron knew that look, knew it intimately. It was the look of a man who had been inside and would do anything not to go back. The Hellraiser backed off and Aaron blinked. All the colours were strange to his eye, sharp and too strong. A flash of silver again, and red. Black, white, whiter. Aaron’s own biker rival chased to catch up with his fleeing friend.

Adam appeared in front of him, hands on Aaron’s biceps, face creased in worry.

“Cain!” he heard Adam yelling. “Cain! Cain, it’s Aaron!”

Aaron looked down.

Pulled his hands from his side and felt his legs tremble and give, Adam catching him under the armpits, only just.

He breathed, and everything was red.

\--

The pub was absolutely jammed for New Years, and if Robert slapped a few wheels onto the building the whole lot would be headed straight for the cop shop.

“Two voddy tonics, Robert,” Kerry raised her voice, waving a note in Robert’s direction. As far as he could tell they were both for her, just like the last two had been. Robert set about fixing them – it was New Years, and he wasn’t her keeper. The music wasn’t overly loud, but mixed in with the boisterous chatter, the clinking glasses, and the overwhelming urge to drop dead behind the bar and never pull a pint again for the rest of his life, Robert was well on his way to a headache.

Charity had ducked out a few minutes ago, mouthing _phone call_ as she pointed to her screen, which at least did seem to have someone ringing on it, not just Charity chancing her arm and flexing her boss muscles. He smiled, handing out change and serving, all with his mind somewhere else.

The bed had been cold on Aaron’s side when he woke up, palm searching for warm skin and finding cool sheets a poor substitute. When he’d managed to shuffle down the stairs Charity had been waiting, two brews done and a smile to put the fear of god in any canary.

“Good morning,” she sing songed. “That’s for you from me,” she said, sliding one of the cups across the kitchen counter, “and this is from your grouchy beloved.”

She passed him a piece of paper, folded over. He raised an eyebrow. “You read it?”

“I might have glanced at it,” Charity said, sipping her tea. “Left out by the kettle like that, could have been for me.”

“I know you’ve always admired me, respected me, thought I was a top bloke – “

“This monologue going anywhere?”

“- and generally just so, so fit, but I didn’t know you were considering a name change.” Robert flashed the clear label of his name in Aaron’s writing on the folded side.

She opened her mouth in big false smile, then dropped it and rolled her eyes. Robert flipped open the note.

_Out all day today on a favour for Cain, didn’t want to wake you and ruin your shot at Britain’s Best Snorer. Might not see you until tomorrow, but if I can get back before midnight tonight, I will._

_Aaron x_

Robert had smiled, ran over the words again, read the promise between the lines, lingered on the sign off. When he looked up again Charity was watching him over the rim of her cup.

“Precious,” she said. “Little kiss at the end n’all.”

“Shut up,” Robert said, halfheartedly, glancing down at it again.

“So I take it Katie and Andy didn’t manage to spoil your fun?”

“They gave it a good go,” Robert said, leaning back in his chair.

“And?”

“Aaron gave it right back,” Robert smirked, then caught Charity’s knowing nod. “What?”

“Just that our Aaron doesn’t do things by halves, does he? And now you’re _his Robert_ , you’re getting what you signed up for.”

“Spose so,” Robert said. Charity tutted, playfully rolling her eyes.

“Tell you what, living with a loved up couple around the place is no joke. The moony face on you, pass me a bucket.”

“Jealous.”

“Hardly,” Charity scoffed. “You’re the one that has to put up the decorations for tonight.” Charity got up, tipping the dregs of her tea down the sink and heading to the door. She paused in the frame. “Tell me, Robbo, you ever worked the New Year’s shift in a pub before?”

He hadn’t. And if he had his way he never would again. This was torture.

He suffered his way through, every few minutes checking the clock. It was creeping up on eleven now, and Robert couldn’t help wondering if Aaron would get back in time to ring in the New Year with him. After the night before, Robert thought a celebratory midnight kiss was just about in reach. He wasn’t dancing on tabletops or anything, but kissing Aaron in the pub didn’t scare him the way it might have before. Just put a little tapdance in his chest. It would be Robert’s first year _out_ , whatever that ended up meaning – where the people he loved might love him back in the same way. In his entirety. He still had secrets – what his Dad did to him back when his love was still tender and the spine of fear uncracked, that wouldn’t be getting to the light of day any time soon. But if he wasn’t hiding from himself anymore…that had to mean something for a new year ahead. Didn’t it?

Before he could begin to answer his own question he felt a hand at his elbow, and looked across at Charity, whose mouth was pinched tight and eyes wide. Her voice was low in the cacophony of the pub and he strained to hear her.

“Don’t panic,” she said.

“Because that’s what you say when you want to inspire confidence.”

“Look just, come through to the back right, and keep your head.” Charity leaned over the bar and called out to Bob, who was playing darts at the distinct disadvantage of wearing a pair of those New Year’s glasses. “Bob, would you mind the bar? Just for a few?”

“Charity – “

“Your drinks on me for the rest of the night if you just do me a favour,” Charity yelled. Robert saw Bob’s face change as he registered her edge of desperation. Robert could feel her nails digging into his arm, and when Bob moved to acquiesce she dragged Robert into the backroom.

The room was empty and still, the sound from the pub muffled when Charity shut the door.

A second passed. Two. Robert waited.

“What’s the –“

The peace was obliterated as Cain and Adam burst in, holding Aaron up between them and sitting him down on the couch. Aaron was pale, eyes hazy, and when Cain stood up and away from him Robert saw blood on the older man’s shirt and jacket. Adam sat next to Aaron, supporting him, and holding a balled up hoodie to Aaron’s side. Robert rushed to him.

“Wha – “

“Charity, get him a towel or sommat, that hoodie’s done for.”

Charity raised her hands, rotating on the spot as she scanned the room, then lunged for a tea towel by the microwave.

“A clean one, you daft mare!”

“Sorry Boy Scout Leader Cain, I’ve not got my first aid badge yet!” she snapped back, tossing the towel away.

“Mate, it’s alright, we’re gonna get you sorted, yeah?” Adam said, rubbing Aaron’s back. Aaron nodded, awake enough to do that, and Robert crouched down in front of them, hands on Aaron’s knees.

“Aaron. Aaron, what’s happened?”

Adam looked at him, eyes wide and worried, teary around the edges.

“He got stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Robert looked up at Cain, whose phone was tucked to his ear, then noticed Pete and Finn had followed them in. Finn looked horrified, staring at Aaron on the couch, and Pete looked about ready to kick someone’s head in. Robert could guess whose.

“Was this to do with this _favour_ he was doing you today?” Robert fired at Cain, who ignored him, muttering quickly into his phone with his fingers pinching his nose. Robert looked at the other Saints. Pete was staring at the ground, mouth twisted and body tense. Finn was biting his thumbnail. “Finn?”

“I shouldn’t have told him, it just slipped out,” Finn said, like he’d been under the lamp at the police station for an hour or two, ready to spill.

“What slipped out?”

“The warehouse job, he was like a bear with a sore head about it, about – “ Finn visibly swallowed. “About Aaron replacing him. I just – I told him we were doing it tonight, but I never, I swear, I never thought he’d come!”

Adam turned on the couch, jostling Aaron, who grunted at the movement, but Adam’s eyes were fixed on Finn.

“And the rest?”

“That’s it, I swear! I didn’t know he’d come so I didn’t tell him anything else.”

“Including the fact that the entire fucking plan changed?” Adam demanded. Robert saw him then, the Adam Barton that might burn down a building, do some real damage. The puppy dog demeanour stripped away Adam was a big bloke, tall and long in the limbs, broad chest and shoulders. Violent the way that a lot of people might be if they were pushed too far. “Finn! What the hell is wrong with you?” Robert started to get a clearer picture of events, with Ross bloody Barton sat smack in the middle. “He came in doing plan one when we were doing plan two and now look at what’s happened! Those Hellraisers would never’ve even known we were there if it weren’t for Ross!”

“I’m – “

“Shut up, all of you,” Cain said. He braced his hands on his knees and leaned down to Aaron. “How you doing lad?”

Aaron looked up at him and nodded. “I’m alright.”

“Alright enough to move again?” Aaron hesitated, but nodded again. Robert squeezed above Aaron’s knees lightly, and Aaron looked at him, determinedly blinking.

“I’m alright,” he repeated.

“Good,” Cain said, “we’re gonna take you up to the farm, Moira’s got Vanessa there, and we’ll get you all fixed up.”

“Vanessa?” Robert asked, then stood up, facing Cain. “The _vet_? Cain, he needs to go to the hospital!”

“Ideally, yeah,” Cain said.

“ _Ideally_?”

“If he weren’t stabbed doing sommat illegal while he’s still on probation. It’s a knife wound, Robert, there’ll be questions, and coppers, and before you turn around he’ll be back inside.”

Robert opened his mouth and Cain scowled.

“We can stand about arguing or you can let me get on with fixin’ this.”

Robert looked at Aaron, and found blue eyes shining up at him. His hand was curled loosely over Adam’s, both of them bloodstained over the bunched up fabric of the hoodie.

“Rob, I can’t go back to prison. Cain’ll sort me, it’ll be alright.”

When Robert didn’t object any further, Cain started barking orders. He sent Pete and Finn to take care of some truck, and got Charity to hand over her car keys.

“I’d better get back out front before Bob comes lookin’, yeah, but – “ Charity darted her eyes at Aaron, then back at Cain. “Call me as soon as everything’s sorted.” Cain nodded, tersely.

“And don’t scratch my car.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron ruins a tablecloth. Robert ruins his unfeeling image in front of half of Yorkshire in Moira's kitchen. Andy reaches out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wee warning for medical whatnottery. barely there, just lie back and think of the ✨romance✨

Between them, they managed to get Aaron into the car, a fresh towel pressed to his side that wasn’t changing colour as quickly as Robert feared it might. Robert prayed that was a good sign. Aaron looked wan under each streetlight they passed until they were on the darker country road. Adam kept turning around in his seat to talk to Aaron, and Robert could have kissed the idiot for keeping him chatting when Robert could barely do more than keep pressure on Aaron’s wound and stare fixedly straight in front of himself.

They rolled up to Butlers in record time, Cain pulling his best boy racer without the bumps and jostling to get them there. Robert looked out the window and frowned. Vanessa’s car was there, as promised, as needed, but it wasn’t the only one.

“That’s Andy’s car,” Robert said, bewildered. “What’s he doing here?”

“Moira didn’t mention him when I rang,” Cain muttered, “must’ve got here just before we did. Don’t matter, he won’t say owt. Alright,” Cain turned around, fixing Robert and Adam with a look that soothed Robert’s nerves a bit. A look like at least someone knew what the hell to do.

“Let’s get him inside.”

\--

Vanessa looked horrified as Cain explained, and they wasted a few minutes yelling about the hospital before Moira stepped in and simmered things down. Adam and Robert eased Aaron onto the table as gently as they could, Aaron still pained and grunting as he laid back. Robert moved a stack of coasters onto the cabinet, out of the way. He doubted coffee rings were anyone’s worry right now.

“Fine, fine!” Vanessa snapped at Cain, who glowered back, and whose face only darkened further when Andy started in, Katie at his side.

“If you’re staying, you’re going in there and you’re saying nowt,” Cain said, stabbing a finger towards the sitting room. Robert caught Andy’s eye, but before he could say anything the door was flung open and Ross charged in.

“Right, I offloaded that motor so any time you want to say th – what the – “ Ross’ eyes alit on Aaron, laid flat on the table and Robert lost it. He lunged at Ross, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and driving him back into the wall under the coat hooks. “Sorry mate, I don’t swing your way.”

“You did this,” Robert said, shoving into him harder, making sure the points of his knuckles would drive bruises into Ross’ chest. Andy tried to intervene but Robert shrugged him off, pulling Ross and slamming him again.

“Bloody – “ Ross scrabbled. “What you talking about?”

“You, so desperate to be the big man you charge in with a half baked plan and no fucking idea what you’re doing and now look.” Robert adjusted his stance so Ross could see the table over Robert’s shoulder, but didn’t let up any pressure. “Look what you’ve done.”

“I did nowt.”

“Sugden,” Cain’s warning voice came from behind him, and Adam’s joined, a softer _Robert, mate._ Robert bored his eyes into Ross’, jaw like granite. Andy was standing next to them but had given up separating them.

“So help me, Ross,” Robert said, “if anything – _anything_ – happens to him – “

Ross scoffed. “You’ll what? Poison my pint next time you’re serving me?”

Robert leaned in close, full of conflict. Strong and brittle. On the edge of something. He saw Ross’ eyes widen a bit and he liked it.

“I’ll ruin your life,” he hissed, the kitchen gone tense and silent. He smiled like a dagger. “Pathetic as it is. I’ll bury you Ross, and I’ll enjoy it.”

A few moments passed.

“Robert,” Aaron said. Robert’s hands loosened in Ross’ shirt, and Andy gently pushed Robert away from the slimy git. “Robert, leave him, he’s not worth the bother.”

Robert agreed, only dropping his gaze from Ross at the last second, and moving to Aaron’s side at the table again. Cain sent Ross into the sitting room with Andy and Katie, promising to deal with him later, though the three of them ended up watching the scene from the adjoining doorway. Activity started to surge through the room again.

“Right, I need a look, get his top off,” Vanessa said, digging through her bag. “Moira, boil the kettle, someone get clean towels.”

Adam and Robert made a move towards Aaron at the same time, and Adam demurred. “Towels,” he muttered, turning and thumping up the stairs. Robert took the hem of Aaron’s tshirt and peeled it up, a glug of blood appearing from the wound when it was exposed.

Aaron flinched and Robert’s eyes darted to his face in a jolt of panic. Dozily, Aaron winked at him. “Any excuse to get my kit off, eh?”

It was a bolder joke than Aaron would usually make in front of a room of people, but it worked. Robert breathed out.

“You don’t usually take this much persuading,” he said, carefully getting Aaron’s arms out of the sleeves with minimal stretching to Aaron’s side.

“Hafta – “ Aaron winced, Vanessa starting her inspection and cleaning of the wound, wiping the blood away and creating a diluted pink puddle on the floor. “Hafta keep you on your toes.”

“I don’t think anything important got nicked,” Vanessa said, peering closely, “no major organs or owt.”

“You don’t _think_?” Cain growled.

“How long did it take you to get here?” Vanessa asked Cain. “Since it happened?”

“’Bout half an hour.”

“Okay. He’d not still be up to flirting with his boyfriend if anything vital was hit. Not at this stage.” She smiled at Aaron, though tightly. For a vet, she had a good bedside manner. Adam offered her the towels and she got back to cleaning.

“See,” Ross said, bravado working double time. “He’s sound, look at him – “

And they did. Everybody. Torso cleaned of blood and exposed under the kitchen lights. Aaron looked up at Robert, still just about sharp enough to know that everyone in the room was seeing the criss-cross of his scars. Aaron closed his eyes.

Robert took his hand, squeezed it firmly. Adam went for Ross but Moira stopped him with a hand on his chest and fierce, sympathetic eyes.

“Oh dear,” Vanessa said, a sharp frown pinching her forehead and putting Robert in the mind of one of those economic graph charts where the upshot was that _nobody profits_. Aaron breathed in hard through his nose, making a muscle in his belly jump, and Robert soothed him with a gentle stroke of the thumb over his wrist.

“ _Oh dear_?” Cain repeated. “Oh dear, what’s that mean?”

“It means,” Vanessa said, peering closer to the wound, nimble fingertips along the edges inspecting the damage. “That’s deeper than I thought. And if you really won’t take him to hospital and a _people doctor_ then – “

She pressed her lips together.

“Aaron,” she asked, moving up towards his head. Aaron focused on her and nodded grimly. “You allergic to owt?”

Aaron pulled his hand from Robert’s and pointed at Ross in the doorway, hand shaking and a wry smile on that was all for the benefit of the room. Robert laughed weakly, and thought he saw Moira hide a smile behind her palm.

“Owt else?” Vanessa said, the lines of her neck and shoulder seeming to have loosened. Aaron shook his head, swallowing.

“No.”

“Okay. Ever been sedated?”

“Not on a kitchen table,” Aaron mumbled, and Vanessa nodded, sharp and decisive. Robert could see the professionalism draw down on her small frame like a blind, the assurance of having a plan.

“First time for everything,” she said, then stooped to pick up her bag, rifling through it, explaining her plan. Not being a medical doctor she didn’t want to put Aaron all the way under, just give him enough to take the worst of the edge off. It would still hurt, but at least this way they weren’t at risk of overdoing it down to a dodgy dose measurement.

As she prepared the sedative, Robert scooted his chair closer to Aaron again. He perched the elbow of his free arm up on the table, and swept Aaron’s hair back off his forehead. Robert could feel the room’s eyes on him – on them – but he didn’t care. He only had eyes for Aaron.

“Y’alright?” Aaron ground out, face pale and damp with sweat. Robert laughed, tears springing to his eyes.

“I’m fine, you headcase, you’re the one on Moira’s table needing a new zipper fitted.”

“Not half as worried as you look though.” Aaron blinked, searching Robert’s face, then dropping his voice. “Is it really bad?”

Robert looked across the table at Vanessa, close enough to have caught Aaron’s words. She shook her head minutely, lining up bottles on her side of the table, and a sewing kit that Robert wished he could distinguish as medically distinct from the ones lying around in the pub’s junk drawers from when Diane still lived there.

“Course not. Hard man like you, you’ll be doin’ cartwheels tomorrow, eh?”

“That bein’ what I’m known for,” Aaron said, dryly. “Cartwheels.”

“You’ll be fine,” Robert assured him through the bravado, keeping his thumb stroking Aaron’s wrist, not even considering stopping. He timed it to his own breath. In, out. Sweep up, sweep down. He pushed Aaron’s hair off to the side again, Aaron’s eyes opening back up again properly at the touch. Robert knew Katie and Andy were standing in the doorway watching. Adam by his mum on one side of the kitchen, Cain chewing his own thumb by the front door.

Robert leaned over a pressed a kiss to Aaron’s forehead, warm lips to cold, clammy skin.

“You have to be,” Robert said. “Don’t make me think I fell for a quitter.”

\--

Aaron was stitched up and sleeping off his sedation on Moira and Cain’s bed, Robert only having let go of his hand for them to gingerly move him from the operating-dinner table. It had been horrible, watching him flinch his way through getting stitched as the drugs set in and reached their maximum potential of pain stoppage. Robert just kept squeezing his hand, amazed at his silent fortitude, wiping away any stray tears that leaked out the sides of Aaron’s eyes. The snip of Vanessa’s scissors when she declared the wound closed was the best sound Robert had ever heard.

He watched Aaron’s still face, traced the straight line of his nose, the fan of his short lashes. Robert preferred those eyes open. On him, piercing him, knowing him. Robert jolted, a hand coming down on his shoulder.

“You can quit hoggin’ him now, sunshine,” Cain said. “I’ll sit with him for a bit.”

“I’ll stay, if it’s all the same to you.” Robert said. Cain withdrew his hand but nudged Robert with his knee.

“Eh, no. It’s my room, and you need a shower.” Robert looked down at himself. Dried panic-sweat, blood crusted and flaking on his hands. He nodded. Couldn’t move.

“He could’ve died,” Robert murmured.

“But he didn’t,” Cain said.

“If that knife had gone in just a bit – “

“But it _didn’t._ ” Cain sat on the edge of the bed, looking up the length of his nephew. “We just focus on getting him better.”

“And Ross?”

“I’ll be taking care of Ross,” Cain said, darkly. “Seriously. Get out now, last thing he needs is you attracting flies.”

Robert smoothed his palms across his knees, taking a last look at Aaron’s face. He looked peaceful, and had more colour than he did when they first dragged him into Butlers. Robert stood, legs stiff enough to creak.

“You’ll text me, when he wakes up?”

Cain nodded, rubbing his eyebrow, mouth parting on a silent _yeah._ Robert made for the door, reluctant in mind to leave Aaron and in body to move anywhere, limbs weighed down, zapped of energy.

“Sugden,” Cain said. Robert looked over, Cain scrutinising him. “You did good.”

Robert nodded again, stole a last glance at Aaron, breathing soundly, and closed the door behind him.

\--

Andy gave Robert a lift back to the pub. Pete had been in when Aaron was getting stitched up, taking Ross off their hands and dropping Katie back to hers and Andy’s place on the way. They’d all been well shot of Ross for the night, and Katie, in Robert’s view, but Andy had stuck around.

They trundled back in the direction of the village, Andy’s driving seeming slower than a walk compared to Cain’s break neck journey up to the farm earlier. Silence stretched between them, a light drizzle coming down against the windows one of the only sounds, the other being the rhythmic swipe of the wipers.

“What were you doing up there anyway?” Robert asked. Andy cleared his throat.

“Borrowed some equipment off Moira the last day, was just dropping it off on our way in to the Woolie for the countdown.”

“A farmer’s job is never done,” Robert said, overdoing the most rural parts of his accent, furrowing his brow the way their dad used to. Andy huffed.

“Too right,” he said. They sat in the quiet for another few minutes.

“Must be nice,” Robert said, too tired for animosity. “to know he’d have been proud of you. For sure, I mean.”

Robert could practically hear the gears ticking over in Andy’s head. Hoped he wouldn’t say anything insipid like _he’d have been proud of you too_ , or _he’d like Aaron._ He wouldn’t like Aaron and they both knew it. And then, maybe, in a place Robert would never get to know, he’d grow to like Aaron. Or if not like him, respect him, because Aaron was a hard person to not respect when you saw his strength, his loyalty. But not Robert. Never Robert.

“It is,” Andy said, after a while, in a tone of deep concession. “I’m sorry. About last night – “

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Robert said.

“Aaron was right, the stuff he said,” Andy carried on anyway. Robert closed his eyes for strength. Looked out the window, feeling the distracted glances of his brother’s eyes on him, trading between Robert and the road.

“It’d surprise you how often that happens,” Robert said.

“Well, a lot of things surprise me,” Andy said, every word measured carefully. “You did. Yesterday. And tonight.”

“Glad I’ve not gone stale on you, _Andrew_ ,” Robert said. He really, _really_ didn’t want to participate in another round of _pin the fail on the Robert_ , but short of tuck and rolling out of the car he had no other options.

“The stuff I said,” Andy said, eventually. “It weren’t right. And I’m sorry Rob.”

They drew up a few doors down from the Woolie, blocked off by all the people standing outside, waiting for the fireworks to go off. They sat there in their own little fishtank, everything muffled and private.

“I don’t want us to carry all this into the New Year.”

Robert glanced at the dashboard clock, the thin red lines. He snorted.

“Only a minute out, you’re cutting it fine.”

“To be fair, I meant to catch you when we came to the pub but then your boyfriend got stabbed n’that, so.” Robert looked over at Andy, who faltered. Seemed unsure. “Is that?”

“Yeah. Think so.”

“Right.” Andy looked down, away, squinted out the front window. “So, can we make a fresh start then, you reckon?”

Robert looked at his brother. They had been best mates once, before everything got complicated, before they were in competition for a love that was a finite resource. Robert didn’t think he’d ever had that, before or since, really. That innocent, pure, devotional friendship. Robert didn’t tend to cleave to what was innocent, it was too close to untested, uninteresting – but something adjacent to it. Brotherhood. It would be so easy to throw it in Andy’s face, tell him he didn’t want a fresh start with Farmer Muppet, didn’t want him at all. Except that would be a lie. He did want Andy in his life, and Vic, and Diane. Family had always been important to him, the problem was not feeling part of it.

Maybe this year, he could be.

“Yeah, go on then,” he said, like he was accepting a pint.

The fireworks hit the sky like God’s applause. The rain was every colour.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron starts his recovery. Robert wavers, speaks to Katie, and lets fear make his decision.

Aaron had spent nights at the farm before, kipping on Adam’s floor when they shared a taxi back to the village, or just got too knackered staying up playing videogames. He’d woken to the sounds of cows baying, of machines starting to move, hubbub in the kitchen as Moira fixed a breakfast for the farmhands, the day starting early but with a comforting level of sound and a predictable routine.

That was not the sound Aaron woke up to.

“What did we say, Cain?”

“Chas – “

“What did we say?” she pushed. Aaron blinked his eyes open, searching his mum out in the room, only to see his uncle wipe a hand down his face wearily, phone held a little distant from his ear, his sister the only person on the planet who talked to him like that, or at that volume.

“You take care of my baby, I take care of your baby,” Cain said, in the tone of someone repeating something that had been drilled into them with extreme force.

“Exactly,” Chas chirped. “Now, I just left your baby in her shiny new garage in Leeds, where we go shopping once a week and the kids all but frolic in the flipping meadows. And where’s my baby, Cain?”

Aaron tried to sit up and hissed, the pull in his side reminding him of the night before. Cain looked up when he caught the sound and Aaron laid back down, gesturing him over. Cain tapped on his phone – putting it on speaker, however unnecessarily - and sat closer to Aaron.

“Chas – “ he tried.

“Where’s my baby? Sleeping off a stabbing and a surgery done by a woman who spends half her life with her arm up a cow’s backside – “

“Mum!” Aaron broke in, voice rough from sleep and a tight, dehydrated throat. He coughed a bit, and Cain passed him a water bottle from beside the bed. He gulped down a few sips while Chas explored her higher vocal range on the phone. “Mum, I’m fine, I’m alright.”

“Oh love, it’s so good to hear your grumpy morning voice,” she half-cooed. Aaron and Cain met eyes over the speaker and Cain cracked a small smile. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, Cain,” Chas snapped, somehow intuiting the microsecond of relief and snuffing it out. “Aaron love, I’m just packing a bag alright, this one didn’t tell me what happened until this morning or I’d have been there sooner.”

“No, Mum honestly, you don’t have to – “

“Aaron, you were _stabbed_.”

“Yeah, and now I’m fine. Seriously Mum, there’s no need, everyone’s going to be fussing around me up here at the farm as it is.”

“But – “

“I’m just a bit sore, and tired, right. I’ll probably spend a fair bit of the next few days sleeping.”

“Lazy arse,” Cain said.

“And that’s the fussing I’m expected to leave you to, is it? No, I’m coming back, I – “

Aaron shot Cain a glare, as best he could still flat on his back, and tried again.

“Mum please? Trust me. I’m alright.” There was a second of quiet – she was probably just inhaling, but that wouldn’t stop Aaron pressing the advantage. “Keep looking after Cain’s baby, yeah? Debbie and the kids need you up there more than I do.”

There was a pause.

“He had me on speaker?” Chas asked, quietly.

“He didn’t have to,” Aaron said. “I can hear you shouting the odds in Leeds from here.”

“Charming.”

\--

After a bit more time mother-wrangling, Aaron managed to get off the phone, and Cain went on an undisclosed _errand_. Aaron didn’t have the energy to inquire about it, but he trusted Cain and let it be. He managed to get himself sitting up against the headboard, and between Moira and Adam he was well looked after.

“Fluff your pillow?” Adam offered, leaning over Aaron in a pose like a busty nurse in a shite porn film. Aaron swiped at him, the laugh on his lips choked off and sliding into a groan. He dropped his hand to his side, peeled up his shirt enough to have a look. Clean bandages, no blood. He’d live, as long as he kept it that way. Vanessa had checked in with him soon after Cain left, giving him instructions on taking care of it – basic stuff. Keep it dry, don’t do anything strenuous. Having not hit anything too important she told Aaron he could be – gently – up and about in a few days, but that he’d have to move carefully for a bit over a week at least. He couldn’t complain, he supposed. Still breathing, and all that.

“Sorry, mate,” Adam said, sitting down sheepishly by Aaron’s legs.

“You tryin’ to finish the job or sommat?” Aaron bumped his leg into Adam’s hip. Adam ducked his head, guilty, and Aaron rolled his eyes. “Mate, I’m kidding.”

“Can I get you anything, though? Sarnie? Brew or owt?”

“Phone’s on the charger over there,” Aaron nodded to the dresser. Adam half leapt off the bed to grab it. Aaron felt pretty rubbish about taking up Moira and Cain’s room, but he’d be moving up to Holly’s tonight, after a bit more rest and at Moira’s insistence, not hearing a word of him going back to Debbie’s alone. Adam passed Aaron his phone and he checked his messages.

A few texts from his Mum. Get well wishes from Debbie, Vic, and weirdly, Finn. One from Charity as well, sent late the night before, asking if her car was okay, which made him smile.

Nothing from Robert.

“What’s up, mate?” Aaron looked up, shook his head.

“Nowt.” Adam looked at him pointedly and Aaron shrugged, sighing. “Just haven’t heard from Robert yet, is all. Have you?”

“Nah…but he’ll be up to visit later, mate. I know you were half out of it last night but he was out of his mind over you.”

“Shut up.” Aaron’s memory of the night before was hazy with pain, and Vanessa said the sedative might have some effect on it as well. He only had vague impressions of things. Silver needle, a hand holding his, the pain. Embarrassment at being so exposed, comfort, lips pressed soothingly to his forehead. It was coming back in small bits and pieces. And he could feel Robert there, constant.

“He was! I thought he was gonna kill Ross for a second there,” Adam paused. Pulled at a loose thread on the throw blanket. “Thought I would n’all, if he hadn’t got there first.”

“Nobody’s killing Ross,” Aaron sighed out. “He’s not worth the stains, never mind the time inside.”

“He could’ve got you killed, Aaron.” Adam looked at him. “Or I could’ve. How many more times you gonna take a bullet for me, eh?”

“Nobody said owt about bullets, you’re on your own with that shit,” Aaron said, flipping his phone over and back in his lap.

“I’m serious, mate. If anything had happened to you because of me, _again_ -”

“Oi. Big head. It wasn’t exactly a thought out decision, alright? It wasn’t your fault. Let’s just go back to blaming Ross, and call it quits.”

Adam laughed, looking down at his lap, then raising his head and sitting up straighter. “Yeah, alright. If you say so.”

“I do,” Aaron nodded decisively. “And I’m the one laid up in bed, so what I say goes, yeah?”

“Milkin’ it for all its worth then?”

“Obviously,” Aaron grinned. He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Go on then, soft lad. Heard sommat about a sarnie?”

\--

Robert had been stirring his tea for a minute and a half, staring blankly at the kitchen backsplash, eyes dragging from tile to tile. He’d been alright, he thought, climbing into bed after Andy dropped him home, more than ready for the rest, but found himself tossing and turning, the night passing in hazy, uncomfortable blocks of interrupted sleep. He hadn’t washed his sheets yet since the intense sex of the night before, just made the bed back up again, and laying there in his and Aaron’s combined scents was as comforting as it was distressing.

It was like once the panic was over – the adrenaline fuelled reacting, the _making the best of it_ , the helping as much as he could to fix it – it gave the fear space to set in. The hoodie Aaron had come in clutching was on one of the dining chairs when Robert came home, so soaked with blood that it hadn’t begun to dry yet, still wet with what should have been inside Aaron, pumping through his body in vital pulses. Just thinking of it had Robert’s heart hammering, an unsteady flicker that said _you’re alive_ as much as it said _he almost wasn’t_.

Nightmares had plagued him, Moira’s kitchen table transfigured to a mortuary slab, Aaron’s skin white as chalk and far out of reach, Robert desperate to help but unable to get closer.

“You keep stirring that you’re going to create a weather event,” Charity said, behind him, making him jump.

“Eh?” She nodded to his tea, and he withdrew the spoon absently, watching the whirlpool carry on without him.

“Look, I wouldn’t normally, but lets say it’s my New Year’s Resolution to engage in a bit more – “ she made mocking bunny ears, pulling a face of mild disgust. “- _charity._ Why don’t you take the day, I’ll get someone to cover your shift, and you can go visit –“

“No,” Robert said. Charity pulled her head back, but before she could question him, Robert pushed on, “No, no you’re alright, he’s probably. He’s probably sleeping anyway.”

“Right…”

“I’ll just. Get on, then,” Robert said. He made a beeline to the cellar, finding it strange that the most sunken, closed space in the pub was the only one where he seemed to be able to catch a breath. He leaned his head against the cool stone walls, closed his eyes.

\--

Robert was working up at the bar when his phone buzzed.

 **Adam:** hey mate don’t know if cain forgot to tell you but aaron’s awake

And then, ten minutes later.

 **Adam:** as in you could come visit now

 **Adam:** he asked about you this morning

 **Adam:** don’t tell him i told you that tho. even like this he’ll still try and lamp me one

Robert snorted lightly, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Charity would let him go if he asked. It was half dead in the pub anyway. He started to type then froze up, staring at the screen and catching his own reflected eye in it. _Like this,_ Adam’s text said, the aftermath of Aaron’s injury looming between the lines. He remembered the blood, the clamminess of Aaron’s touch as he shuddered with pain. He backspaced the text away, slid his phone back in his pocket, and carried on working. Cleaning clean counter tops. Polishing polished glasses. Checking beer taps without a fault.

He couldn’t face it.

He couldn’t.

\--

Texts had been coming in from Adam all day, getting further and further spaced out. Robert stopped reading them when they slid from _you’re welcome at the farm any time mate_ to _what are you playing at you muppet?_ and focused instead on getting through lunch rush, then the post lunch clean up. He offered to help Marlon with the dishes, which got him a raised eyebrow and suspicious line of questioning. Afternoon tipped into evening. Robert buried a yawn in his elbow, rubbed at his tired eyes.

“Not what you’d call a traditional late one, last night,” Katie said, sliding onto a barstool. Her face was open, but cautiously so. “Was it?”

“No,” Robert said, shortly. He gestured to the wines. “What do you?”

“Small white,” she said. “Please.”

Robert poured the wine and pushed the glass across, collecting the money and opening the till.

“I was wrong,” Katie said. Robert dropped a coin in the wrong compartment, head snapping to look her way. He narrowed his eyes. She was sitting with her elbows pulled in close to her sides, neat fingers lined up on the counter’s edge. Tentative. Robert looked back to the till, fished the coin out and dropped it where it belonged. He closed the till with a quiet _snick._

“You’d rather a red?”

Katie tossed her head a bit, and Robert resisted the urge to tell her she spent too much time around horses.

“You like Aaron,” she said, point blank. “Like, actually like him.”

“I _like, actually_ do,” Robert said, keeping the instant objection of _more than like him_ locked inside where no one could hear it and he could avoid looking at it too closely.

“I’m trying to be civil here, Robert.”

“Go ahead then, I’m not stopping you.” Robert leaned back, crossing his arms as she eyed him.

“How you were with him, last night. I – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that scared.” Robert froze up, biting at the inside of his cheek. This was the most uncomfortable place – where worlds collided, where first love met honest love and the two shook hands. The dividing line between past and present, expectation and its failure thinned, slim as a blade of grass in Yorkshire fields. “Coming close to losing him…”

“Don’t – “ Robert cut himself off, choked on it. Collected himself and forced a careless gesture of his hand. “Look, me and Andy have buried the hatchet. If that’s what this is about – “

“I want to do the same,” Katie said. Robert smirked.

“I’ll get you a couple of doilies made,” he said. “Mr & Mrs Kumbayah.”

“Why are you such a bastard?”

“Not enough B vitamins as a child?” Robert shrugged, saw the fight seep back out of Katie’s shoulders. “You want us to be alright? Fine, we’re alright. Or we will be, if you stop pretending you know everything about me, about who I am, just because you knew one version of me once.”

“And maybe you can stop acting like my life is small just because it’s not what _you_ would have wanted.” Katie faltered. Leaned closer over the bar. “And stop calling me a slapper.”

Katie knocked back half of her wine in one go, then pressed her lips together in a rigid line.

“Sounds like we both know what we have to do, then,” Robert said. She looked at him, surprised, like she thought he’d take out a lighter and tip the flame to the olive branches growing between them. She sipped her wine a little more restrainedly, then smoothed her hands over the countertop like she was gathering her thoughts.

“I believe that you care about Aaron,” she said, then fixed him with a stare. “I still think you’ll break his heart. Whether you mean to or not.” Robert opened his mouth but she followed up too quickly, and he let her say her piece. “But I know that…I know that I’ve changed. Since before you left. So, I suppose I can try and give you a chance to show you’ve changed too.”

“Careful, you nearly apologised to me,” Robert said. She narrowed her eyes at him, but her smile was closer to genuine than taut on the scale. There would probably always be something a little too sharp between them. Broken edges healed badly. But it would do.

“Don’t push your luck, Robert,” she said. She finished her wine.

Robert moved away to serve another punter, and by the time he was done Katie had left. The pub was at its steady, quiet thrum, and again, Robert’s thoughts strayed to Aaron. He pulled out his phone, saw all the unanswered texts. Then the time.

_I still think you’ll break his heart. Whether you mean to or not._

It was probably too late to visit now today anyway. Robert guessed Aaron was easily tired, with his recovery, was probably due an early night.

Or at least that’s what he said to himself, fiddling absently with his phone.

He’d go tomorrow. He’d visit him tomorrow.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert confronts a ghost, and then gets confronted for ghosting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nervous about this chapter purely because of how much one sided dialogue it has, but hopefully it's not too bogged down. i just really love robert sugden? okay? o k a y ? ?
> 
> (oh also, updates have been quick/will continue to be quick bc i've the thing written now to the end, and have as much patience as ryan hawley has fucks to give about what he's wrought upon me and my life x)

It was so easy, the way cowardly things always were, to let one day of not visiting turn into two, into three. It was day five and Adam had given up texting him. Charity’s joking nudges turned into bitter, scathing jabs. And then Vic came to see him.

“Oi!” Robert looked over his shoulder, and saw his little sister charging down the road at him. “Yeah, you. Is this right, you’ve not been to see Aaron?”

“I’m guessing Adam’s been onto you? The grass.”

She stopped beside him and slapped his arm. “Robert!”

“I know! Vic, I know, alright.” Robert carried on walking in the direction of the shop, Vic keeping stride with him, glaring at the side of his head. He knew this conversation was coming, knew it more with each hour that had passed, the pressure building and building on him, and he knew he’d gone past the point of being able to handwave this away, or charm is way out of it. He’d messed up bigtime, and unlike his usual style of nuking the landscape in one big move and then regretting it when it was too late, he knew he’d been messing up the whole time he was doing it. Every minute of not calling, not texting, not visiting, he knew he was making a huge mistake.

Missing Aaron’s shape beside him the night before, then making accidental eye contact with a particular photo that morning – he’d reached his own limit of excuses. You could only run so long before you ran out of road, only turn your head to avoid something so many times before you found yourself circling back to where you started.

“You know what? That’s it’s arsey behaviour to drop your boyfriend when he’s ill?”

“Aaron’s ill?” Robert stopped, shoes skidding a bit on the gravel. Vic looked up at him smugly, hands on her hips.

“So you do care.”

“Vic,” he said, sternly, the swell of panic in his throat as his brain presented him a slideshow of infected wounds, of fevers and worsening circumstance. “Is he okay? What do you mean ill?”

Vic rolled her eyes. “Not _ill_ ill, I just meant like – needs some looking after. And Adam only brings out the worst in him, they’re like toddlers together.”

Robert breathed out, kept on his way to David’s. The bell chimed as they entered, Victoria still hot on his tail, and he beelined for the buckets of flowers. He chose two bunches and took them up to the till.

“Look, Vic,” he said, nodding to David as he got out his wallet, “I’m gonna go see him soon.”

“Soon?” Vic looked between him and David searchingly, and David drew back, confused and obviously not wanting to get yanked into an argument. Robert paid him for the flowers. “Like how soon? Today soon? Because – “ they pushed back outside into the cold January air. She looked up at him with those big eyes, voice gone soft. “- I thought things were going really well with you two.”

“They were. Are,” Robert said. “Today. Alright? I’ll see him today. There’s just one thing I have to do first.”

“You promise you’re going to see him though? _Promise._ Because I think today would be _especially_ -”

“I promise.” He pushed one of the bunches of flowers at her. “Do me a favour if you’re going back that way, drop these in the sink at the pub for me.”

“Am I your butler now as well as your relationship counsellor?” she grumbled, but took them, pausing to sniff.

“No, you’re my thoughtful, generous, wonderful favour-doing sister,” Robert wheedled. “Now stop mithering at me.”

Robert set off, walking with the first bouquet cradled in his elbow, Vic playfully shouting at his back.

“Remember you promised!” she yelled, the wind whipping her voice, soft like cream, light and barely there. “Smitten kitten!”

\--

Robert walked among the headstones, the grass crunchier underfoot for the cold, one of the big trees by the gate casting a long, spindly shadow across the grounds. There were one or two other people about – he supposed between New Year’s Eve drunk driving causing anniversaries and New Year’s Day causing reflection, there were a lot of people who would find it a natural visiting time.

Robert drew to a stop in front of his dad’s grave. He tipped out half the collected rainwater in the vase by the stone, replacing it with the flowers he brought. They were nice, small white ones. Simple. He didn’t know if his dad would like them, had never thought to ask what kind of flowers he liked. If he liked them at all when they weren’t just decorating a field by chance. He might not have put much stock in bouquets at all. Robert put his hands in his pockets. He swivelled on the spot, checking there was no one close to him, and seeing only the closed eyelids of the grave markers surrounding him, he spoke aloud.

“Hi Dad,” he said, feeling a bit silly, but letting it wash over him. “Been a while. I – eh. I’m back in the village, have been for a bit, but I didn’t come to see you because – “

Robert looked up and over the grave stone, into the middle distance. Pressed his lips together.

“Well I don’t really know what to say there, there’s a lot of reasons. Vic’s doing good. Cheffing in a fancy restaurant in Hotten, got a boyfriend you’d probably hate a bit, but I reckon he loves her. And I made up with Andy.”

Robert conceded, bobbing his head side to side. “Well, I started to. _We_ started to. I know you’d like that, not that you ever seemed to get why we were at each other’s throats in the first place.”

Robert scrunched his toes in his shoes, rocking back on his heels.

“The reason I came to see you today, Dad, is that I’ve met someone. His name’s Aaron. He’s – he got hurt recently, and I’ve been letting him down because – well, because I’m not strong like he is. Or like you were. And you were the only person I could think to talk to about it. Jack Sugden. Pillar of the community, salt of the earth.” Robert toed at the grass. “More’n that though. You were my dad. And you always had a lot of ideas about what it meant to be a good man. Advice.”

“We’re still early days. Technically. Though it doesn’t feel like it. It feels like something that was supposed to happen, me coming back. I know you’d scoff at any fate stuff…but nothing’s ever _fit_ the way it does with him. He doesn’t take any shit from me, and he’s sour and moody, and he’s been through more than I think most people could put up with without breaking. He’s funny – sharp with it, and he’s got so much to give to people he cares about, I reckon he’d barehand split an atom if they asked.” Robert smiled, but it faded when he remembered why he was here. “Coming close to losing him made me realise how much I – I care about him. And those two things, Dad, wanting your advice and wanting Aaron, they’ve been playing on my mind for days because caring about Aaron is the most honest thing I’ve done in years, and you -”

Robert stopped. Watched the flower heads nod in the breeze. Like something was listening, even if his dad wasn’t really.

“You didn’t beat it out of me, if that’s what you hoped.” The stone, unsurprisingly, didn’t react. Robert’s voice dropped low, barely above a whisper, asking the question that rattled around his head on the darker nights when remembering the good times wasn’t enough. “Were you ashamed, that you did that? Because you should be. It’s taken me a long time to figure that out, but you should be.”

“I have to believe that if you were still here that you’d be able to see how happy he makes me, and that you’d get past what was holding you back from loving me the way – the way you were supposed to. That you’d be able to give me advice on this new relationship, with – with the most beautiful person. Remind me that I don’t deserve him but that I should hold on anyway, work at deserving him – “ Robert stopped again. Swallowed. Even his dad’s rock face was hard to talk to. “That you’d see that you were in the wrong, and times change. Maybe I’m giving you more credit than you deserve. But it doesn’t matter, does it, what you deserve anymore, because you’re dead.” Robert forced himself to soften, to not put up a front, not when no one was watching. There was no point. “You’re dead, but I’m not, and I deserve to believe that one day you would have been proud to call me your son.”

“I’m proud of me, a bit. I always thought I could get away with burying that part of me, and that I was doing that because it was what _I_ wanted, because it wasn’t anyone else’s business. I convinced myself that no one needed to know, that it didn’t make a difference to me, but it obviously does. Being open with Aaron, being open _about_ Aaron – it’s brought Vic and Andy back to me. Properly. Because now I’m not hiding anything, now when they say they love me, I know that the version of Robert that they love is the same as mine, I’m not waiting for them to find out the truth and decide I’m not worth it. Like you did.”

Robert’s chin wobbled, and he clenched his fists, flexing stiff fingers. Fighting a dead man was as exhausting as fighting a live one. More so.

“You spent so much of our time together telling me I let you down,” Robert said, planting his feet. “Well I came here to tell you that it goes both ways. You let me down, too. But I’m going to let that go now, because it was never about me. It was about you. Your prejudice, your failure. Not mine.”

“I’m going to go see Aaron now. And I’ll bet you anything he won’t make it easy for me. But like it or not, I’m the son you raised,” Robert said, backing away from the headstone, leaving the delicate petal-hands of the flowers to wave him goodbye. “I’m not afraid of a challenge.”

\--

Robert was walking up the road back in the pub’s direction, head swarmed with thoughts, cheeks lashed pink by the wind. There was still a tremble in his belly, but he said what he wanted to, what had been banging around inside him for the last few days, and that at least felt good. It felt right.

He looked up as he drew close to the pub and like magnets, found Aaron’s eyes straight away. He was sitting on one of the outside benches, dressed all in black, a severe smudge on the washy watercolour greys of the January day. Looking sidelong at Robert, he arched his eyebrow, the deep cut above it moving with the shape, surrounded by bruising. It was probably a bad time to be thinking with anything but his up-top brain, but Robert had to acknowledge that Aaron looked devastating. Like everything that had drawn him to Aaron in the first place, all the conflicts and contrasts of a heart-on-sleeve hard man. The bruised bruiser, too smart to show his belly from the off but too brave not to once the decision had been made.

But it was the disdain Robert was worried about.

“Right. You are still alive then,” Aaron said, as Robert drew closer. Aaron’s face shut down, contempt replaced by a blankness that left nothing to grab a hold of, nothing to give. Robert saw where this was going.

“Aaron – “

“That’s all I wanted to know. Bye.” Aaron got his feet under him with care, pushing up to standing with some effort. Robert moved forward with a hand outstretched, but Aaron turned a fierce glare on him. “Don’t touch me. I don’t need your help.”

“Aaron,” Robert tried again, but Aaron turned away, heading back to the van just as Moira stepped out of the pub with her clipboard in hand, just back from meat delivery, at an educated guess. Aaron waved her down.

“Can I get a lift back, Moira?”

“Aaron, please, we need to talk.”

“Moira?” Moira looked between them, tilting an apologetic look at Robert.

“Course. You need a hand getting in?”

“No,” Aaron trudged to the van door, heavier on his feet than usual, less bounce in his swaggering step. “Might get you to do my seatbelt though.”

Robert followed after him, reaching out again as Aaron opened the van door, holding his own side. Robert rested two fingers at Aaron’s elbow, not wanting to risk pulling at him and messing up even more by hurting him.

“Aaron?”

Aaron looked down at his hand, then pushed it off, wincing at the motion.

“Leave me alone. I’m done with you, Robert, let go.”

Robert stepped back, watching with concern as Aaron carefully got himself in the van, handing Moira the buckle to snap in for him. They drove off, and Robert waited all of three seconds before he decided.

He wasn’t having this.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last proper chapter, and an epilogue after this. i hope against hope that the people kind enough to leave such encouraging and lovely comments throughout find this satisfying x

Aaron leaned his head back on the headrest, loosing a long sigh. He was able to take deeper breaths a bit easier now than in the first few days, and took advantage of it by tagging along with Moira so he could pick up some fresh clothes from his room at Debbie’s.

And yeah. He wanted to see Robert. Look him in the eye and feel nothing, the way Robert clearly did. Days. Days, and not a blonde hair seen, not a text come through, nothing. Obviously when Aaron wasn’t in a fit state for fucking he wasn’t worth the bother. Everyone had warned him. And if it was just about the _I told you so_ smiles he’d live, but it wasn’t. He’d been stupid enough to buy in, to think Robert _saw_ him and wanted him anyway, even with all the cracks, the wear and tear.

Since prison, Aaron had been in a holding pattern. It was like he was still living his life on someone else’s schedule, like all doors were only open in anticipation of being closed, and he just…settled there. But meeting Robert unlocked something, added some unpredictability to his day, something like a sweeter adrenaline. At first. Then he had to go and grow feelings, climbing up and rooting in his heart like tenacious weeds, but still with that same _freedom._ Because that was what it was. After prison, even the stuff before prison, with Jackson, with the puzzlebox of pain and coping that got built around him after, being with Robert, in a way, made him feel free.

To experiment. To desire. To confess.

To feel.

But clearly it was one sided. Aaron thought that Robert coming out had meant something. Not that it was for Aaron, he’d never claim that – but…it didn’t matter. Not anymore. Robert had made that clear.

Moira cleared her throat, peering up into the rearview mirror.

“That is one gutted looking lad,” she remarked, neutrally. Aaron didn’t say anything, or look. “Aaron?”

“Not my problem, is it.”

“I’m just saying – “

“What are you _just saying,_ ” Aaron snapped. She pursed her mouth, looking straight ahead. “Sorry – sorry, Moira.” He rubbed his forehead, flinching when he caught the edge of the cut over his eyebrow. She drove them out of the village, taking the familiar turns. Aaron picked at a thread on his sleeve, fists bunched in the longer fabric.

“Looks to me like he’s sorry, too.”

“Well he fucking should be,” Aaron huffed. “I got stabbed and he’s been _nowhere_ , Moira, we’re supposed to be – “ Aaron looked down at his lap. Idiot. He watched the film reel of his memories, eyes pricking as he remembered. Time spent curled up on couches together, Robert’s fingers brushing his when he brought him coffee at the garage – the nights they spent together where Robert looked at him like what they had _meant_ something. Like _Aaron_ meant something to him. Aaron couldn’t even really blame Robert for making a mug of him. Aaron had made a mug of himself.

“But you won’t give him a chance to explain?” Aaron looked at Moira.

“You’re on his side now?”

“I’m on your side. But I’ve seen how you’ve been since he turned up, so’s Adam – “

“Big gob.”

“ – we care about you. Is it not worth hearing him out at least? Not even for him, but don’t you owe it to yourself?”

Aaron looked at her. She was only trying to help, like she’d been helping him over the last few days, letting him stay in her house, eat her food, distract her son from working his farm shifts.

He shrugged, and she sighed, turning the radio on.

“Dingles,” she said, with a shake of her head and a knowing tone.

Aaron waited for the farm to appear in the windscreen, then disappeared into Holly’s room, lying down carefully. He stared at the ceiling.

Happy fucking birthday to him.

\--

Robert pulled into the yard at Butler’s, and spotted Adam immediately, exiting one of the sheds near the house. Adam saw him too, the long line of him freezing then bounding over as Robert got out of the car.

“Houdini, in the flesh!” Adam said, arms swinging as he walked. He wasn’t glaring at Robert, which he took as a positive, but his gaze was uncomfortably serious, out of place on his face, and Robert quailed under the inspection. “Y’know, on account of your disappearing act?”

“Yeah, Adam, I got it.”

“So where’ve you been? Because mate, unless you’ve been stuck down a well or sommat – “

“Aaron’s already seen me. In the village,” Robert cut in, reaching back into the car for the flowers.

“And?”

“Told me he was done with me.” Adam frowned. “Not that I don’t deserve it.”

“Yeah man, I mean…what happened?”

“Think I’d rather discuss that with _Aaron,_ ” Robert said, pointedly ignoring the way Adam’s eyes went wide on the flowers. “He’s still here?”

“Last I…checked,” Adam said, scratching the back of his neck. “Mate I hope you got him more than those for a present, that’s all I’m saying.” Robert was about to insist they were an apology, more than a present. They weren’t meant to be a bribe. But Adam cut him off, excusing himself back to his work, and Robert made his way to the house instead, knocking on the front door.

It swung open to reveal Cain. Robert had a delirious moment where he imagined himself on a quest for an audience with the beautiful princess, and here was the dragon, guarding the path. Except if either of them could read his mind, Princess Aaron or Cain, Dragon of Mt Butler’s, they’d be playing rock paper scissors to decide who got to knock his teeth out.

“Cain,” Robert said, blithely. “Aaron in?”

Cain stood steadfastly. “You’ve a nerve.”

“You’ve a poor grip on hospitality. So, Aaron?” Cain’s jaw twitched and Robert stood his ground, however shakily. Moira came into the doorframe’s view, and pulled Cain back by the elbow.

“Thought we might be seeing you,” she said, appraising Robert with a shrewd eye. “Come in.”

Robert did, the Butler’s kitchen a much more welcoming place in the daylight. It had the kind of solid but worn look that he knew Katie was going for with her and Andy’s place, but they hadn’t passed enough time there for it to feel natural rather than manufactured. _Yet_ , he self-edited, giving the whole _familial generosity_ thing a whirl.

“Nice flowers, couldn’t get a bouquet of spanners, no?” Cain mocked, muttering it out on the edge of a scoff. Robert set them down on the table, the same table that he had watched Aaron get stitched up on, bleed on, had held his flinching hand on. He caught Cain’s eye when he looked up again, and thought he saw a flicker of recognition there. He fanned it, begged for it to catch light.

“Please, can you just get him to come down? I need to speak to him.”

“Do you now? Don’t reckon he wants to speak you.”

“Let’s let Aaron decide that, Cain,” Moira said, reasonably. “I’ll go see if he’s awake, he’s been quiet up there.”

“Moira – “ Cain stepped to stop her, but she gave him a firm stare and he sighed, stepping back to lean on the counter. She moved from the room, giving Cain a final look that even Robert could read as _weasel or not, don’t kill a man in my kitchen._ Cain folded his arms, started chewing his thumb.

Robert shifted under Cain’s eye, desperately uncomfortable. He twitched, and Cain just kept staring, narrowing his eyes every few seconds, like he was trying to work something out.

“What?” Robert finally broke. “What?”

Cain shrugged. “Nowt. Just trying to work out whether you’d fit in the boot of my car.”

“The boot of – “

“Ross did.” Robert paused.

“Not that I’ll be crying over it,” Robert said, treading carefully. “But what did you do to him?”

“Like I said,” Cain dropped his thumb away from his mouth, wandered closer to Robert. “Put him in the boot. _Alive_ ,” he clarified, at Robert’s face. “Drove him out into the woods. Left him there. If he can make his own way back, that’s his look out.”

“What woods?” Cain tilted his head. “You said _the woods,_ what woods?”

“I don’t know. Drove until I got bored. Found some woods. Put him there.”

“When was this?”

“New Year’s Day.”

Robert’s mouth dropped open. “And you’ve not seen him?”

Cain shrugged again, his mouth taking on a smirk.

“You need to work on your listening skills, Sugden,” he looked Robert up and down. “Among other things. It’s. His. Look out. Besides, I’m not heartless. Left him a Snickers bar.” Cain crinkled his nose, bobbed his head to the side. “Well, half a Snickers bar. Got hungry on the drive out, like.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Cain looked him up and down again and Robert lifted his chin.

“Aaron can look after himself, usually. But he’s not up to laying you out just now,” Cain said. “Just making sure you know he’s got an understudy.”

Robert didn’t respond, and in the silence he could make out the sound of movement upstairs. When he looked back at Cain the man was staring, amused, at the flowers. He caught Robert’s eye.

“No caterpillar cake, then?”

“Eh?”

“It’s his birthday, in’t it,” Cain grinned. “Year older, no wiser.”

“His – “ Robert closed his eyes on Cain’s smug face. Now it made sense, Adam outside, even Vic, earlier, leaning on today being a good day to visit _especially_. What an absolute, blue-ribbon idiot. He opened his eyes just as Aaron and Moira joined them in the kitchen. Aaron had gotten out of his coat, just a long sleeved shirt on, sleeves pulled down over his hands. He looked in Robert’s general direction, but it was like he hardly saw him.

“Could we, eh. Could we have the room for – “ Robert tried, inquiring of Moira, who seemed the kinder audience, though she was giving him a bit of a warning eye as well.

“Not a chance,” Cain said.

“’Course,” Moira glared at Cain, then looked at Aaron. “I’ll be working outside if you need anything, and Cain’s just leaving.”

“Am I?”

“You are.”

Cain lanced Robert with one last glare, a bored threat to it, then let himself be led out of the house, Moira grabbing coats and shutting the door behind them. Robert looked at Aaron, who stood with feet planted and no opening remarks.

 _Look at me_. _Please._

Robert moved to take a step closer, and Aaron stepped back, lips pinching together.

But he looked at Robert. Blue eyes to green.

 _I’m looking,_ he seemed to say. _It better be worth it._

\--

Aaron waited, face carefully composed as though he didn’t care one way or the other that Robert was standing opposite him, looking out of place in Moira’s kitchen and like he hadn’t thought much further than getting here.

“How’s your – “ Robert started, gesturing to Aaron’s side, then before Aaron could answer, turned quickly to the table and picked up a bouquet. He offered them to Aaron. Aaron snorted.

“They’re for me?”

“Think of them as a _get well soon_ ,” Robert said. Then quieter, “or an _I’m sorry_. Or compost if that’s what does it for you.”

“Not very me are they,” Aaron said, scratching his nose. “Hydrangeas?”

Robert blinked. He looked down at the bouquet and dug through the wrapping plastic for the ticket. He glanced back up at Aaron.

“Good shout,” he said. “How’d you – “

“You don’t know everything about me, thought I told you that.” Aaron watched that hit land, remembered Pearl nattering on to him about her flowerbeds while he sorted her internet once upon a time. It was funny, what things just seemed to stick. He liked that though. Would put money on no one in the village thinking Aaron Dingle would be able to tell his hydrangeas from his gardenias.

“Give them here,” he said, snatching them from Robert’s hands and pushing past him to the sink. He realised too late that he should have just headed to the bin, really drove his message home, but nice flowers being given to you by a dick didn’t make the flowers less nice. He dug out a basin from under the sink and turned the tap on.

“So, how are you, then?” Robert asked, his voice cautiously optimistic from behind Aaron. Aaron definitely should’ve put the flowers in the bin. Instead, he turned the tap off and sat the stems into the basin. Moira might have a vase somewhere, but like hell was he rooting around for one with Robert here.

“Well, for starters, I’m a mechanic who can’t bend over a car well enough to get a good look in,” Aaron groused. He’d been getting a bit cabin feverish, the allure of days spent playing videogames and sleeping having lost their shine around day two. He wanted to get under a bonnet. Go out test driving one of the new motorbikes – one of the upsides of the disastrous warehouse job.

“Now that really is a shame,” Robert said, and Aaron could hear the smile in it. “Tragic, really.” Aaron looked over his shoulder, and he caught Robert dragging his gaze up Aaron’s body, slow and playful, but still with heat. Aaron blushed, hated the way Robert looking at him like that made something in him drop its weight, made his heart a free floating thing. He yanked it back down to earth like a balloon on a string, gritting his teeth.

Aaron faced Robert, pointing at him once before crossing his arms tightly. “I knew it.”

Robert’s face dropped at his harsh tone. “What – “

“So you thought five days was long enough? Probably still not up to a fuck yet but maybe I’d suck you off or sommat. Bring me flowers to get me back on side, like it’d be that easy.”

“Aaron,” Robert’s eyes were wide, and he took a few steps closer before Aaron could object. “No, that’s. I don’t know what you’re – “

“That’s what this was to you, weren’t it?” Aaron accused, pushing away from the sink. “You’ve got your temporary job with Charity, your temporary fling with any fucker gullible enough to have you – “ Aaron gestured at himself, “your temporary life before you figure out how to get back to some poncy office where you get to wear a suit and the receptionist calls you _Mr Sugden_. I could have been anyone.”

“No, that’s not right.”

“It’s not?” Aaron shook his head, frowning scornfully. “So it weren’t that you were all over me until I weren’t that kind of _useful_? The second I needed you and you wouldn’t get anything out of it, you were off like a shot.” Aaron bit his lip, released it, felt the sting of pressure like an echo.

“You’re wrong,” Robert said, “Aaron, it wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn’t it?” Aaron laughed, lightly. Bitter, he could admit. Robert’s eyebrows were tilted upward, eyes widened on shock, on something that if Aaron was feeling more generous, he might read as hurt.

“How can you think that?”

“How could I not?” Aaron said, letting some of his own hurt reverberate out. “You chatted me up, then pulled back. You kissed me, scarpered. It’s what you do, in’t it? At least with me. And I was so thick, _so thick_ Robert, that I let you inside me anyway.”

“I did too,” Robert said. “Fair’s fair.”

“I’m not just talking about the sex!”

“Neither am I, Aaron!”

They were both yelling, both getting upset, and Aaron could feel the ragged edges of his breath pulling at his wound. He put a hand on the back of one of the dining chairs, steadied himself. Robert reached out, touched his fingers to Aaron’s wrist, the point of contact lit up, even through the fabric of Aaron’s sleeve.

“Are you alright, is it – “ Robert reached with his other hand for the bottom hem of Aaron’s shirt, and Aaron smacked his hand away on reflex. He sighed.

“What are you doing, Robert?” Aaron said, tiredly. Robert pulled up short, and Aaron watched his wheels turn. “Are you just…messing with my head? Because I don’t need that, my head’s messed up enough on its own, ta.”

“I don’t – “

“You were just. Gone. Not even a text, you just. Left me.”

Robert’s shoulders dropped, and he looked at Aaron. “I know. I know I’ve been – I’ve let you down,” his voice was soft, but not wheedling. He wasn’t trying to just get around Aaron, or at least it didn’t sound like he was. “Please let me explain?”

Aaron scanned his face. It was a face he’d gotten to know pretty well he thought. The placement of his freckles, the curve of his lip, the particular shape of his nose and how it felt gliding along Aaron’s as they moved in for a kiss. He knew that face laughing, and shut down, spiteful, hurt.

Sorry.

Aaron moved past Robert, and Robert made a sound of deep frustration, catching at Aaron’s hand to stop him.

“I went to see my dad,” Robert said. Aaron turned, noted that Robert let his hand gently fall away, swiping his thumb over Aaron’s knuckles as he did. Like he didn’t want to restrain Aaron, just touch him. Hold but not trap.

“Robert – “

“No, it’s important. I went to see my dad for the first time since I came back here because I needed to tell him about you, because seeing you bleeding on that table - ” Robert pointed, looking at it hollow eyed and audibly swallowing. When he turned his gaze to Aaron, it was steeled with a determination that was hard to look away from. “I didn’t drop you because you being hurt meant we couldn’t have sex. I – I was a coward about facing up to what you being hurt made me realise, and that was that this,” Robert closed the distance between them, taking Aaron’s loose-hanging hands in his, no grip to it, a net Aaron could swim right back out of if he chose. “This matters to me. _You_ matter. And I could’ve lost you.”

Aaron’s hands weren’t small. He looked down at them, and they looked it, next to Robert’s, but they weren’t really. They were capable hands, hands he’d worked with, loved with, built and broken things with. Fought with. They felt natural in Robert’s. And Robert’s hands – Aaron wasn’t going to deny that he loved them before he even knew Robert from another barman - they were beautiful. Big enough to hold all the shards of Aaron without getting cut.

Robert’s voice was soft.

“It’s too much, too soon, and I got scared,” Robert raised his eyes to the ceiling, then dipped to look at Aaron again. “I mean, I only bloody went and came out for you.”

Aaron scoffed, without any heat to it. “You came out to show Ross up, I was just…there.”

“You weren’t just _there_ , you were – “ Robert let go of Aaron’s fingers, ran his hands the whole way up Aaron’s arms to rest on his neck, cradling his face and gently manoeuvring him to look at Robert properly. Aaron let him. If he didn’t want to be moved, he wouldn’t be moved, and Robert knew that. “You’re everywhere. All the time. Aaron you’re all I can think about most days, does that not scare you?”

Aaron thought about it. He shrugged.

“Not really.”

Robert huffed a tiny laugh, shaking his head, so close to Aaron now Aaron could feel his breath on his face.

“Well, spose I already knew you were the brave one of the two of us.”

“Could’ve told you that for free,” Aaron said. Robert met his eyes.

“I’ll try. To be better. If you’ll give me another chance.”

Aaron looked at him, pierced him with his gaze. Robert ran his thumb gently over the cut over Aaron’s eyebrow, following the arch of bone. It was an apologetic touch. He could feel the care in it, see it in Robert’s eyes.

“I won’t leave you again,” Robert said, and Aaron’s heart clenched.

He nodded, diving into this beautiful bad idea the only way he knew how to - headfirst. He lifted his chin, not in challenge, but in invitation. Robert smiled, then pressed his mouth to Aaron’s, tightening his fingers in the hair at the back of Aaron’s neck. It was sweet. Warm. Aaron had spent the last few days missing Robert, and angry about missing him. Robert kissed it away, filling up the spaces he should have been. Aaron licked into Robert’s mouth, deepened the kiss until both their breaths were catching. Aaron winced.

Robert pulled back, looking down. He grazed the backs of his fingers against Aaron’s side.

“Sore?”

“Bit.”

“Hard man.”

“Soft lad.” They both smiled. Aaron bumped his fist against Robert’s chest. “Can we sit down? I was going to the couch for a rest and to hear your big explanation when you made your mad lunge at me.”

Aaron laughed under his breath as Robert absorbed the news, cheeks going pink before getting buried under a smirk. They moved to the sofa, Robert arranging them so they were curled into each other at one end, and kissing Aaron with one hand laid carefully at Aaron’s side. Aaron bit his lip as they parted again.

“Do me a favour?” Robert asked, still nuzzled close.

“Jammy. We’ve only just made up.”

“Next time someone comes at you with a knife,” Robert pressed, pulling back and fixing Aaron with a serious stare. “Just let Adam get stabbed, yeah?”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t like Adam.”

“No, I’m saying it because I – “ Robert paused. He looked like he was working up to finishing that sentence, but Aaron didn’t want to hear it forced. He kissed Robert again, a soft brush, almost chaste.

“I know,” he said. Robert relaxed against him. They fell into each other, trading lazy kisses against the distant backdrop of farm sounds, animals and machinery. Rain started to lash in indolent whips against the windows, then grew to a liquid percussion. The room collected comforting shadows around them, a safe place to heal.

“Oh, Aaron.” Robert said, Aaron’s palm resting on his thigh. His eyes were lovely, full of warmth, and Aaron looked back, steadily.

“Yeah?”

Robert pulled him gently closer.

“Happy birthday.”


	22. Epilogue

Robert loved waking up like this.

The weight and heat of Aaron’s body was pressed up behind him, their legs entwined and breaths quietly synced over the night. Robert shifted a bit, aching all over. January was coming to a close, and Aaron’s recovery period was well over, but Robert had made the mistake of teasing him the night before about whether he was _up to it_. Aaron had put him on his belly and shown him just how up to it he was, and Robert grinned at the memory, still feeling it.

He rocked his hips back, and Aaron stirred against him, mumbling into the back of Robert’s neck.

“You awake?” Robert said, sleep rough in the throat, and looked over his shoulder to see the blue of Aaron’s eyes as he blearily surfaced. He took Aaron’s hand where it was draped over Robert’s waist, and guided it down his stomach. He felt Aaron huff an incredulous, barely there laugh, and grinned.

“Only been conscious a second and a half, give us a chance,” Aaron said, his throat even rougher than Robert’s – unsurprising given the masterful blowjob he’d given Robert as he’d opened him up the night previous. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm, because you’re definitely not interested,” Robert said, grinding back on Aaron’s hardening cock. Aaron reached over him, grabbing the lube from the bedside cabinet, and Robert turned his head, dug his teeth lightly into Aaron’s bicep.

“Didn’t say that,” Aaron grumbled, though Robert could hear the smile in it, felt Aaron’s beard against his shoulder blade. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“What can I put in your mouth then?” Robert craned his neck, saw Aaron roll his eyes in the brief second between not-kissing and kissing. After a few seconds Aaron’s hand returned, low on Robert’s belly, and his lubed cock pressed between Robert’s thighs, snug under Robert’s balls as Aaron started to stroke him, pumping his own hips slowly. Robert sighed into the touch, leaning as far back into Aaron as he could, tightening his thighs as Aaron slipped between them. It was messy, slow and languid, and Robert couldn’t get enough.

“Idiot,” Aaron said, with affection, the sting and the soothe.

“You love it,” Robert said, meaning _I love it._ Meaning _I love you._ They’d been tip toeing up to it, the truth of it solid as a bullet but neither pulling the trigger.

Aaron set his teeth to Robert’s neck, nipped a path up to his earlobe as he pulled Robert off in long, slow strokes. Robert shuddered, pleasure building and spilling moans into the rumpled sheets.

He really, _really_ loved waking up like this.

\--

Cleaned up and pink from the shower, Robert watched Aaron pull on his hoodie. His movements slowed to a pause when he noticed Robert watching, and the blue of his eyes glittered as the pink in his cheeks deepened.

“What?”

“Nowt,” Robert said. He knee-walked his way across the bed to the corner closest to Aaron, and took the open sides of his hoodie in his hands. Pulled him closer, giddy with it. “Just looking at my gorgeous boyfriend. Not a crime is it?”

“Is the way you do it,” Aaron mumbled, but submitted to a kiss. He swatted at Robert’s side. “No. We’re not going again.” Robert pushed out his bottom lip.

“Not even – “

“No,” Aaron laughed, pushing Robert’s shoulders and walking determinedly from the bed and opening the door. “Now. Caff for breakfast?”

Robert followed him out onto the landing, finding himself alright with plan B in the scheme of things, when half way down the stairs he crashed into Aaron’s back. Aaron had flung up his hand in a stop motion, then half turned, pressing his palm to Robert’s chest with his other finger to his lips.

“Wha – “

Aaron shushed him, brow furrowed in concentration. Robert listened, then blew his eyes wide.

“Is that?”

“My mum,” Aaron said, with dread. “Fuck, she’s not meant to be here until well later.” Aaron looked around the hallway, obviously considering his options.

Chas had been…less than thrilled when Aaron told her about him and Robert, shortly after they made up at the start of the month. The phrase _hit the roof_ was apt, but so was _hit the roof, blew it out, colonised a new planet and called it RobertSuxx VII_. When she announced her return, she claimed it had nothing to do with it, but Aaron had rolled his eyes back in his head so hard when Cain told them that Robert was afraid he was going to pull something.

She wasn’t meant to get here until the afternoon.

“It’ll be alright,” Robert whispered, giving Aaron’s shoulder a squeeze. Aaron looked up at him, doing some calculation that Robert couldn’t decipher. “She’s not a fan now, but I’ll win her around.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow.

“What,” Robert asked, offended. “I did with you, didn’t I?”

Aaron made a face. “Yeah, but you won’t have the tactical advantage of sex this time.”

“Are you saying you’re only with me for my body?” Robert teased, then noticed the genuine disappointment on Aaron’s face. He softened. “We knew it’d have to happen eventually.”

“Yeah, _eventually_ ,” Aaron acknowledged, nodding. A slow grin spread on his face and sent something swooping in Robert’s belly. “Not now though,” Aaron said.

He put his finger to his lips again as Robert made a questioning face, and beckoned Robert down the stairs. Now that they knew who it was, Chas’ voice was clear as a bell through the backroom door. She was chatting away happily to Charity – who it was safe to say had probably filled Chas in on Aaron being upstairs - the two of them obviously pleased to be reunited, though he doubted Charity would admit to it. They snuck past the door, Aaron leading him down the hall and leaning down below the coatrack. He passed Robert something familiar.

His motorcycle helmet.

Aaron grabbed his own, and quietly as he could, opened the door to the outside.

_Creeeak._

They both froze.

“Aaron? Aaron, love, is that you?” They heard from the backroom. Still at a whisper, and with blue eyes wide and full of mischief that Robert could feel in sparks up his spine, Aaron flapped his hand at him.

“Go, go, quick.”

They swung their way out of the pub as the backroom door opened, Aaron closing the outside one behind them, and they legged around to the side of the building, where Aaron’s utterly gorgeous, and very, very stolen motorcycle sat. They shoved on their helmets, laughing like wild ones. Aaron swung his leg over the seat and Robert slid on behind him. In five seconds flat they took off.

Aaron drove them out of the village, up past a few of the outermost fields, taking curves in the road with the same primal grace he had Robert’s first day on a bike. Robert had gotten his legs about him now, had learned to enjoy the thrumming engine, the feel of Aaron, held close in his arms but wielding all the power of the sleek machine. After a little while Aaron pulled off the road proper into a layby. The trees framing the edge dangled their bare branches, winter frost pebbling their bark in textured patterns. When they climbed off the bike and removed their helmets, Robert could see their laughter, hot breaths spilling in curling wisps from their mouths.

Aaron wiped at his eye and Robert swooped on him, taking his face in his hands and kissing him hard, interrupted by the sounds of their own joy, the quiet chirps of unseen birds.

“She already thinks I’m a bad seed,” Robert laughed, “how’s this gonna help?”

“It won’t,” Aaron shrugged, as out of breath as Robert. His smile mellowed, but still sparked at the eyes.

“So? What’s with Fast and Furious: Tokyo Dingle?”

Aaron bumped his fist on the handlebars. He shrugged again. Robert looked at him, the way he was ducking his head down, his number one tell for being sheepish. Shy.

“Aaron?”

“Just didn’t fancy sharin’ you just yet,” Aaron said, in that tone of voice that made Robert feel like a king, that made broad daylight in the middle of a country road feel private. Intimate, and theirs.

“That so?” Robert asked, smiling wide.

Aaron rolled his eyes. “God, you’re such a smug git. Should’ve left you to the wolves.”

“You love it,” Robert said, swaying in closer, watching Aaron match his movements. It was the second time that morning he’d said it, meaning something else, except this time, Aaron didn’t let it slide by.

“I do,” Aaron said. Robert took in a sharp breath. Aaron’s shoulders went back, strong, but relaxed. “I love it,” he said, a small smile, fading, leaving his face bare and open.

“I love you,” Aaron said, simply.

Robert always knew Aaron was the braver of the two of them. But Robert was trying. They’d been running towards this hurdle together for weeks, and he refused to stumble. He looked into Aaron’s eyes, and jumped. Helpless and certain.

“I love you.”

They kissed, in the middle of the layby, Aaron’s bike propped up next to them. They swayed together, Aaron’s hands gripping Robert’s sleeves, Robert’s framing Aaron’s face. The faded photographs of Robert’s past, the looming challenges of the future – none of it mattered, no schemes or plans, no grudges to weigh on him in self-wrought chains. He was crashing into this moment and savouring the bruise.

He was here and now. Himself. Free.

In love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that's that done and dusted :)  
> i haven't replied to every comment bc there's only so many ways to say "thank you so much" but really, the support on this fic has been more than i ever expected, and i sincerely appreciate anyone who took the time out of their day to make mine a little better with something thoughtful or kind in the comments. for any further chats i'm @aaronsoftestladdingle on tumblr ([shakes fist] i know, my branddd) and my askbox is open :)


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